The Sound of Silence
by CF-fanfiction
Summary: AU, SONADOW: 'When browsing a travelling slave caravan, Shadow, Lord of the NorthEastern Province, procures an expensive and undisciplined slave thanks to an unfounded whim. Little does he know what trouble he's in for...'
1. Enter the Wild

Chaos: I'm alive? -collective gasps- Yes, and allow me to explain the absence. Again. It has do, sadly, with the fact that the RP with Az has become a full commitment of mine now - soon to be a manga, and a website, if I EVER get around to it. But enough of that. The other main reason is that I have now finally succumbed to the Sonadow following. Please don't shoot. Blame Az andNam for spending a good six months gradually poking and nudging - looking at you, Nam - me along the path. 

So here it is. My debut to Sonadow. This grew entirely out of a short piece by Namelessmoonshine(who blatantly refused to continue it herself, -mutter-) a dabbling, if you will, into the pool of Sonadow fanfiction that snagged the fishing line of an idea in my head. Forgive the metaphors. Attempting to imitate, to some extent, Nam's style for a couple of days will do that to you. Don't like Sonadow, don't read. It's as simple as that. But this story isn't just a fest of out-of-character hideously unlikely coincidences and random lemons. It may be AU, but I've tried to keep the character principles the same. And for those of you that DO like... the fluffy stuff... you'll have to look a long, long way ahead to find it.

And since nobody will know what the hell I'm talking about - I lost my miniscule following to boredom months ago, I believe - hi there. I'm Chaos. I almost never update my other stories, though I will regularly on this one. Blame Flower for my other writings, if only because she's too busy scrawling 'shibby' doodles to help me finish them.

This story is also posted at sonadow dotcom, and will probably be updated more regularly there.

Thanks for reading!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You were indeed a costly purchase." Shadow commented aloud, resting his chin on his gloved hand as he observed the creature, the hedgehog before him. There was no answer, no falter in the near-brilliant intensity of the gaze, but after all, he hadn't expected one.

Slaves, and especially wild ones, were prone to sealing their words away – a last show of rebellion, of dislike or disrespect. They were renowned for it. But no matter. He was used to getting their voices out, be it one way or another. And this represented a fresh challenge.

"I should hope that you will be worth every gold coin." He continued, regarding the green eyes closer for any flicker of recognition or understanding. There was none – just that levelled wariness, neutral alertness. Was the thing, beautiful as it may be with such blue fur – a rare and unknown colour for a wild creature, which had only heightened its price - even sentient?

It was unusual for any slave to meet his stare for this long – even other Lords had trouble with it. But after all, this was a Wild, a mystery just waiting to be explored.

He stood with a soft sigh, brushing the light folds of his cloak away from the chair and still not looking away from those eyes, shining out of the shadows of the travelling cage the slave had been deposited in.

"Be it sooner or later."

With that, he strode from the room to complete the ownership papers for the hedgehog, and wondering whether it had really been a good choice to rest so much money on. It was nearing winter, and such a large purchase… well, he would discover for himself soon.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was becoming frustrated. And that in itself was a rare event. It had been weeks, fruitless weeks, and the creature would not-

No! He had to calm himself. It was intelligent, it would exult in seeing him annoyed.

He knew it could speak. He knew it. It could scream, he had discovered that with ease, though the sound made his soul wrench with something miserable and aching, some dark inner feeling that he could not place.

And it had sentiency. It watched him, it learned, he knew it understood. Yet he couldn't stop thinking of it as an 'it' while it remained the same, stubborn as a rock and just as unyielding.

Once again, he gave in and walked from the room, where the slave occupied a larger cage, now. He paused in the corridor outside, allowing a hand to cover his eyes and an annoyed sigh escape him.

He wondered whether he was, perhaps, insane. Too much money, too many responsibilities, it wasn't good for him. Why else would he be so fixated on a single slave, one so difficult and undeniably Wild that it might as well just be put to labour somewhere out of his sight?

But something indefatigable inside him kept striving, kept pushing to break the blue hedgehog, to hear a single word, any word, escape from it. He had never failed in his efforts before – other slaves always gave in within days, even hours, sensing that he would not allow them light or relief until they did.

But this Wild, it seemed, matched his will. It was insane! For a slave to match him when no other could!

He furrowed his brows, leaning back against the wall so that his elegantly curved quills slid out of place, releasing the tension that he had gathered while in the dark room. Every time it was the same – every new sighting of the hedgehog made a little shiver of pleasure run down his spine; that beautiful fur and shape, and those bright burning eyes.

It looked like it should be a house slave, a high-class well-bred servant somewhere, not the lean, hard-bitten and oh-so-stubborn Wild it was. And try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to use harsher methods to make it talk after the first attempt.

His first attempt. It had remained as silent and fixed as ever despite the pain it must have felt; he had almost lost his temper than, and used the cruellest trick, which never failed to produce a sound – he had removed the spiked chains and other tortuous instruments, turned to leave, and then spun without warning and slashed.

He had put on a clawed version of the black gloves he wore when reduced to more unclean tasks, and the small blades had slashed deeply into the sapphire-blue form, which had just begun to relax, as any other would.

And then that one agonised scream.

The hedgehog had writhed against the leather collar that he held it by, that it was normally secured to the cage by, eyes suddenly showing such pain and shock, and it had almost looked betrayed, as though Shadow had cheated it somehow.

It made him shudder still. He had almost fled from the room at the sound, despite all composure and anger. Somehow he had made it to the hall, feeling more shocked than he had in a long time.

A reaction. A definite reaction. But he would have vastly preferred not to have seen it, to have gone on and perhaps believed the thing was incapable of emotion.

And now here he was again, still unable to beat this beautiful creature into submission. Unable to make it yield to him, unable to make himself use the stronger techniques that no doubt would be necessary. By this point he was assured; verbal attacks did not work.

He sighed again, some vague wish in his mind begging for a chair to collapse into. But he wouldn't allow such weakness for himself; he never had, and he wasn't about to just for a single unbreakable slave.

He had tried everything, and it seemed to be having an odd effect inside him. Rather than the rage he had expected, he felt… fatigued. As though every time he tormented the creature and tried to force it to his will, he was straining a muscle, one that wouldn't take much more before snapping.

His anger had burned out. The thought of returning to abuse it again made him feel faintly sick, as did the thought of leaving it there, which would be a torment in itself for the hedgehog.

He must be going insane. He should just resell the damned thing. What a waste…

With a final shake of his head, the moment of weakness ended and he strode away, back to the lighter world of his normal life and duties. Though they were dull; there were no conflicts nearby, his slaves obeyed without rebellion since he was not overtly cruel – not fool enough to breed resentment within his stronghold – and there was nowhere to go during the change from autumn to the inevitable frosts of winter.

Supplies were in surplus, and his fort was complete and had no more requirements for expansion. Really, the ongoing work was only against the hedgehog, a constant task.

He wanted to hear it speak. A part of him demanded that from all his slaves, another simply wanted to hear what voice the hedgehog held so secretly… and he simply couldn't let it go.


	2. Behind the Veil of Darkness

Chaos: It's comparatively shorter than the first one, but that chapter included the prologue. This is the normal length for the chapters of this story, I think. So, no more comments from me - enjoy, and thanks for reviews! If you have any questions, I'll answer them here.

(warnings; none)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He awoke in the cool depths of the night, feeling somewhat calmer – the soft embrace of darkness always held that comfort for him – but still as troubled. Slowly he slid out from the silken sheets, which fell away with barely a whisper; he disliked being pinned beneath heavy covers even in the increasingly cold weather.

His footsteps were soft as he moved down the separate corridors, lost in thought and simple reflection – these nocturnal walks were an occasional relief from stress and he moved like a ghost, unseen, unheard by the sleeping slaves that were his only company in the castle.

He stopped and looked up, then let a brief growl of annoyance flicker in the back of his throat. Some unconscious pull had led him down the stairs to the base floor and the thick-set unadorned door that marked the hedgehog's prison.

Was it still awake? Was it watching the door with burning eyes, waiting for the next time he would come to torment it? Would it even know night from day in the place lit by only a single tiny barred window?

With a resigned sigh, he curled his fingers around the handle and pushed open the door, bare feet silent on the stones.

The room was dark. That was the first thing he noticed. The ever-burning, ever-watchful eyes, beautifully green and so intensely mistrustful now, had been extinguished.

So the hedgehog did sleep.

He melted through the faintest moon-shadows from the window and open door to his chair, settling into it and listening. He could hear it breathing – deep and soft with sleep, and the sound was somehow a great relief to him, to know that it did rest; it did need a break from the constant pressure as he did.

And again he felt that deep weariness. He was so tired of it all. Only a couple of weeks and already his patience was being burned down by the slave's silence. Why? Why couldn't he just whip it or lash it, or whatever violence it would take to make it speak?

He could have been there for minutes or hours when the rhythm of the steady, reassuring breathing suddenly broke up, becoming faster and sharper, the sound of a creature under severe stress.

A dream? Or a release for the previous day's torment?

Then suddenly a slit of light in the shadows, a glimpse of emerald green – a glimpse that he hadn't seen before, soft and sad and almost bitter, and then the hedgehog's eyes flashed open completely and he sprang upright with almost astonishing speed; amazing reflexes responding instantly to the dim sight of Shadow watching him.

The red-streaked hedgehog didn't move for several long minutes, wondering whether he had imagined it; that flash of feeling, of something other than the wary long-suffering burning gaze that now was focused intently on him, as always.

"Well," He said eventually, voice seeming almost deafening in the room though it was as quiet as a whisper. "I have had enough of this."

He hadn't meant to say it. It had slithered past his mind somehow, escaping into the air, and yet it caused a reaction, which surprised him even more than the words themselves, which he had been withholding from himself. The corners of his prisoner's mouth quirked,peach lips stretched, and sharp white teeth suddenly gleamed in the thin light.

Grinning. The hedgehog was actually grinning at him, and its eyes held a spark of malicious delight. _Aha,_ it seemed to say, _I've beaten you. You've had every advantage, and you couldn't make me talk. I've still beaten you, ha ha ha._

He was not angry, which baffled him even more, though he didn't let a single facial twitch pass over his face. Rather, he was pleased. Some small voice in the back of his mind was singing delight, looking over and over at the new expression, drinking in the details of it.

He quashed it, but couldn't hide the relief. No more torment. No more abusing the thing. Yes, it had beaten him, but still, he couldn't help feeling as though it was in the reverse. Somehow he had gotten what he wanted; relief, and some change of expression from the Wild that proved it had a soul, that it had absorbed every single cruel word he had spoken.

And he felt strangely proud. It did have a soul. His efforts hadn't been for nothing. His money had not been wasted, since it had such strength to take all that he had and still not break. And he had gotten it to respond without wrenching the change from it with superior power.

In a way, it was he that had won.


	3. Into Morning's Light

Chaos: No real comment on this chapter. It's a bit long, but I doubt anybody will complain about that! (grin)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once he was back in his bed, the pent-up tension and fatigue seemed to overwhelm him and he slept right through the pale rosy light that dawn brought.

"My Lord?" The voice brought him abruptly from an unpleasant kind of dream and for a moment he thought that it was the hedgehog speaking. Then his surroundings returned to him and he groaned and turned over, a red-splashed hand going to lie across his eyes and prolong the rest.

"My Lord? This slave has brought the Lord's breakfast." The slave said formally, standing unsurely beside the large bed.

"Leave me." Shadow mumbled, ear twitching as it tried to penetrate the fuzziness of sleep. His words in the night resounded in his head; was it the right choice? Other Lords would find it ludicrous. He would be ridiculed for allowing a mere slave to get the better of him.

"No, wait," He said, sitting up and making some attempt to smooth his quills into place. "Bring me a drink. A strong one."

The slave bowed out of the doorway. "Yes, My Lord."

He sighed again, dashing the sleep from his eyes. Well, his choice had been made, but what position could he now assign the hedgehog? He wanted it to be within his sight, where he could watch it, he couldn't deny himself that.

But it would not make a house slave like the one that had just left. Without words, there was almost nothing he could assign it to. This was entirely unorthodox.

It wasn't until he was close to the bottom of his glass of ale that his mind sharpened enough to regain its pride and think, well, it was his slave, and he would just have to find an unorthodox position to suit it. Nobody else could decree what he did with his property.

It was midmorning when he had dressed and returned to the darkened room, along with a good six house slaves beside him. He pushed open the door once again, and the familiar feel of it sent up an automatic stir within him, a tensing to prepare himself for the torture to be wrought upon both of them.

But he wouldn't. Not this time.

The grin was gone, the eyes and expression the same as ever before, but he thought he could detect a note of triumph in there. Well, let it feel that it had beaten him. He no longer cared.

He motioned the slaves to unlock the cage. "Take him out of here, clean him and dress him, and then bring him up to my room. I will decide what to do with him."

There was a chorus of uncertain 'Yes, Lord's; the slaves were clearly baffled. The hedgehog was obviously not broken yet, and that in itself was astonishing. Why was Shadow not casting it from his sight, to some lowly labour? What did he plan for it?

The black hedgehog was wondering the same thing to himself as he strode back up winding stone stairs. What was he thinking? He had been too long in this place with only slaves for company. He must be starting to go soft.

The other Lords all murmured it behind his back. Living alone, it was unnatural. Why didn't he go find himself a pretty village girl within his lands, if not someone of lordly origin? But he found the village girls irritating, with their giggling and furtive looks at him as he passed, and the corruption and hunger for power among the daughters of the other Lords disgusted him.

He furrowed his brows as he settled down into a velvet-lined chair in his room and signalled to the door-slave.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The sapphire hedgehog's eyes never left the scenery flashing past him through the slotted windows they passed; considering, scheming. The collar remained on him, but the two tamed slaves holding onto the rope from it could be shaken off easily.

He could escape. He could run, he knew he could still run. But for how long? His energy was leaving him after so long cooped up in the dark, and the weak sunlight was close to dazzling even now.

What if there were guards? And how far could he go? He put up the same face against all the torments, but the suffering was beginning to eat a hole inside him, consuming his strength if not his will. He could take more; he could take weeks, months, whatever the black Lord would throw at him. He wouldn't be beaten, even if his body was reduced to a skeleton!

But now he was more curious. He had been suspicious when the first violence, which had caught him by surprise and stung his pride still, was not followed up, but hadn't questioned his good luck.

Though, he was starting to wonder. Maybe this was to be his punishment. Maybe the older hedgehog would torture him to death to try and tame him. But why, then, had he been released?

Not to mention been put into traditional slave winter attire – wool shirt and leather trousers and a thin sheepskin jacket, just enough to stop the cold from slowing progress. They were itchy and unfamiliar, but he resisted the urge to tug at them and get them away.

He hated to admit it, but he was baffled. He had beaten the Lord. It had given up on him. Why, then, this? It had to be some kind of trick.

Shadow looked up as the door was opened and the small band emerged. He nodded to himself briefly; the hedgehog hadn't tried to escape. He had half-expected it to, and he would have had to chase it down himself, which would be highly embarrassing.

"Tie him there." He said, indicating an iron ring, and the slaves hurried to do so, shooting sideways glances at the table, which was now laden with food. Shadow watched them from the corner of his eye and when they were done let out a brief sigh, pushed a plate of rolls towards them and indicated that they should leave him and the hedgehog alone.

He really must be turning soft, he thought to himself bitterly. Still, they had done a good job with the hedgehog, whose gaze had spun briefly over the rope securing him and the room itself before returning to him.

Now that it was properly clean, what fur of it that showed near shone with that remarkable colour, and he could have watched it for hours and not gotten tired of the way it almost shimmered in the sunlight. Rare, indeed.

And the quills had previously been in such disarray that his thought of a streamlined shape had been far from the mark. The quills shaped in such a way that they formed sleek spines behind the hedgehog's head – he had never seen the like. The creature must move astonishingly fast, when it was able, to hold such an aerodynamic shape.

Now that they were no longer in the dark, the green eyes didn't hold such a light to them, but the… was it almost a glare? ... was as sharp as ever. He settled back a little, lying his arms across the armrests of the chair. Yes, the gaze had sharpened somehow. The hedgehog suspected him.

Well, he would suspect himself if he were in the same situation. It was absurd. With a mental shake of his head he gestured to the table with one hand.

"You must be hungry. Eat something."

The gaze flickered down to the table and back up, but there was no other reaction. He had hardly fed it since it had been here, just on water and infrequent crusts of bread - it must be starving, and yet it suspected him too much to reach for anything.

"Go ahead. It is not poisoned." He said, taking some grapes to prove it. Still the thing did not move, watching him as always. He shrugged a little, a very casual gesture for one as important as him. "Very well then. I have chosen a place for you."

"You will remain in here, as a guard. Your work is to stop anybody that would come in here with the intention of harming me as I slept. If you should not do so, you would be executed for subversion."

It was an unlikely event that anybody would even be able to sneak up on him during the night, and if they did manage it he severely doubted the hedgehog would react at all. He had as good as just consigned the hedgehog as a pet.

But not quite. It had a job, and he was confident that there would be no event that would even give it a chance to fail. That was sufficient for him, a loophole of sorts that allowed it to stay without any just cause for disapproval.

"Now, eat. The next meal is tomorrow, and you would not want to wait until then."

Once again the hedgehog didn't react, but this time the glare had softened, barely, into simple disbelief. A hand went up to the collar, almost unconsciously, to shift its pressure a little and caused the fur to shine attractively; the Wild was no longer concentrating fully, probably trying to absorb what would happen to it from now.

"This slave would speak to the Lord." Came a voice from the doorway and Shadow, with a last look at the blue creature, went to the corridor outside.

"Speak."

"The Lord of East Province has contacted this castle." The slave said, keeping head bowed – most of his slaves did that, as meeting his eyes caused them to quite often forget what they were saying and fumble over words. "He requests that this Lord hosts the Winter Banquet, as the East Province is stricken with famine this year."

Shadow growled aloud, a rare sound. There was no famine in the East, but to refuse to hold the event would heighten suspicion amongst his fellows and they might demand entry to his castle.

It had to be his purchase of the hedgehog. Such a thing would get around. He was not rich enough to afford the transaction lightly; something must be special about this slave, and the Lords were ever-curious to new news when the long, boring winter months set in.

"You will send a message to the Lords neighbouring my territory. Tell them I will host the Winter Banquet in a week's time." He conceded at last, dismissing the slave and returning to his room, forgetting for a moment that the hedgehog was there.

What would he do? The Lords would demand to see his famous Wild slave, which he would have no doubt broken by now, and he could not refuse. He could not pin his hopes on the blue creature to begin speaking within the next week, and even if it did he would have to change the position it held.

The only thing he could do was to pit all his wits against those of the other Lords, evade their questions somehow, and spin out an appropriate excuse. The thought did not appeal to him.

He rubbed his forehead, already feeling a band of worry there, and then looked up to find two green eyes burning across the room into his. The source of all of his current problems, somehow still able to fearlessly meet his gaze after everything he had done to it.

Again he felt that absurd tingle of pride, then berated himself for it. He was wearing his emotions far too openly, letting the hedgehog affect him too much. What was he thinking?

The hedgehog must have sensed something of his troubles, for once again came that quirk of the lips, a defiant smirk this time. Anything like it from any other slave would have earned a beating, and Shadow cursed himself under his breath. He knew he couldn't do that, not now; his defenses were too shaken, he would probably crack if he tried to discipline it.

He let the fingers of one hand wander on the designs sown into the collar of the cloak he wore, finding some distraction in that. The creature was breaking him apart and, it seemed, hardly even trying.

He felt a buzz of anger and strode swiftly from the room, towards the grounds, to gather his thoughts. It was only when his footsteps had faded completely that the hedgehog's hand flashed out to take some bread from the table and, after sniffing it carefully and detecting nothing abnormal, eating ravenously.


	4. The Approaching Storm

Chaos: It seems I'm averaging three reviews a chapter here. Thanks! I didn't except anything, really, it being a Sonadow and far disposed from my usual style. Anyway, this chapter - nothing special to announce. But Iit is oneof my favourite ones, if only for the hidden references... -grin- Oh, and I'll be posting reviews responses to anybody that asks questions or puts in a particular comment, if I didn't mention before.

karasu-chao: Karasu is crow, am I right? Anyway, apologies for the grammar. I've tried to erase any mistakes but the grammar check on my computer isn't particularly good. Plus, I write mostly on inspiration, not structure, so it comes out a little strange in places; forgive me for that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was the day before the banquet, and Shadow was trying unsuccessfully to distract himself from the coming interrogation, as it would no doubt turn out to be. His feather quill scratched on the rough paper as he wrote out a log of recent events, a monthly requirement. He might be doing it a week early, but what could happen in a week?

He paused, debating whether to write about the hedgehog. It would be foolish not to. The creature remained as silent and watchful as ever, though it seemed more relaxed now that it had light and proper food, raising the ever-present question of what to say to the other Lords.

'November,' he wrote,

'The Winter Banquet is to be hosted here due to famine in the Eastern Province. Eastern, Northern, South-Eastern and North-Western Lords are invited. The Banquet is to be held on the twenty-third of November.'

'Other events,' He paused, and sighed heavily.

'One additional slave has been bought. A blue hedgehog, Wild, 3500gp. Assigned to guard duty.'

That would do. No significant detail, but enough to suffice. He leant back a little, tapping the now-dry quill end on the edge of the oak desk. He had no choice, he would have to tell them the truth, but be elusive enough for it to seem acceptable.

What a nightmare this single slave was turning out to be. It didn't work, it didn't speak, it openly stared at him and went unpunished.

He stood, replaced the pale quill into the inkwell and moved to the doorway. The corridor was chilly and he shivered a little beneath his thin shirt. The North-eastern province under his rule was notoriously cold during winter; Northern was the only place colder, and the territory there was significantly smaller for that reason.

All their territories, Northern to Southern, with the town in the centre, were on the northern end of the continent itself, as there was better ground and minerals; in the southern half, the Provinces stopped and there were towns until the Royal House at the warm southernmost point.

Still, despite the resource advantages, in winter the Provinces in the northern half suffered without good stock.

The tithe at the end of October had been fruitful, however. He would have to reward the villages under his care somehow. Perhaps he would distribute some of the three-year ale, that would be nice enough but not too generous.

The normal thoughts were something of a comfort to him and he moved more confidently back to his room. For once, the brilliant green eyes didn't fixate on him – the hedgehog had stopped watching him continually, and only stared when he did. He crossed to the window and watched the sun – it was later than he had realised and it was already sinking from its low arc, turning the sky purple. He felt a weight settle onto his shoulders and let his posture slip a little in regret. The day was almost over, already.

Then he felt the tremor along his spine that meant the hedgehog was watching him, and moved to the bed before staring back. "You are causing me a great deal of trouble." He murmured aloud, for once not shielding his gaze fully.

Who knew, tomorrow might turn out dreadfully and they would uncover the slave's insolence and unspoken rebellion towards him, if that was what it was, and it might be taken and broken properly. This might be the last night he would see the beauty of it watching him so defiantly.

The blue hedgehog blinked, searching the difference in the red eyes blazing not quite so strongly at him. There was a tension there, a worry of sorts, and a hint of sadness, of dread. And he had the strangest feeling that this was the last time he would see the Lord with the fur as dark as night, and for the first time a kind of uncertainty about whether that was a good thing or not.

Previously he had put up with the confinement as a fine waste of time until the best opportunity for escape – he was not forced to work, he was not starved or beaten; it was perfectly acceptable to him until he could run free again, probably in the spring. But now…

He felt a prickle of fear that he couldn't find a reason for.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I feel you have been deceived, Lord Shadow." The Northern Lord chuckled across the long table to the black hedgehog, who was barely concealing a deep scowl from spreading across his face.

"It is a natural colour." He said stiffly, having to once again remind himself that discussing the Wild's appearance was a better alternative than discussing its place, or how it spoke to him.

There was an undercurrent of laughter along the table. "A natural colour of the shade of which you speak?" Another Lord said with an unpleasant sort of smile. "I'd have to see this to believe it!"

"Yes, show us this new slave!"

"Agreed!"

Shadow stifled the urge to grip his bone goblet so hard that it cracked. "You would not surely consider leaving your meals to see one simple slave?" He asked, striving valiantly to keep his voice courteous.

There was a brief silence as his companions tried to find a way past that. Shadow's undeniably hostile reaction to the discussion of the slave had sparked their curiosity to a dangerous level, but they had yet to get through to him.

There was a general dislike for Shadow. The North-eastern Province had the best of both worlds – several villages, ample resources, but not as bitingly cold weather as there was in the Northern. And Shadow himself was an anomaly, living alone, and sharp enough to be able to reverse any comment made against him by the others.

It was rare that they had such occasion to torment him, and they weren't about to let the opportunity go.

"Of course not!" The North-western cat Lord said at length, his smile not quite reaching his eye – only one of them worked, thanks to the skirmishes of bandits that occasionally attacked his realm - and drummed his fingers on the table. "We've barely started the wine, after all."

"Ah, that reminds me!" A cry from the Eastern Lord, as a bottle was produced from somewhere in the folds of his large purple cloak. "I bring this from the East, as thanks for your honourable salvation of the Banquet."

There was a general cheer, and Shadow forced himself to smile, suspicious as he accepted the wine. "I thank you, but this is unnecessary."

"Nonsense! Try it, I'm sure you'll find it quite delectable." The Lord replied, smiling warmly. The black hedgehog could hardly refuse, and he reluctantly filled the goblet provided by one of the table-slaves.

Two of the other Lords clinked their glasses together. "To the Banquet!" The cry was taken up by the table, and Shadow sipped from his cup as the rest drank deeply.

He knew instantly that he had made a mistake; a prickle of unfamiliar flavour on his tongue, and an almost instant thickness welled up into his mind. He put the goblet down, but too late; the drug was already beginning its work.

The cat Lord's wife, a human with short brown hair, was watching him out of the corner of her eye. She knew, and wasn't tactful enough to hide it; that meant the others knew too.

He stood, and felt a strange weakness spread down his legs. "If you will excuse me for a moment." He said, almost automatically, moving for the door, and though his hearing seemed to be receding he could still make out the unspoken jeers in the words of the Lords behind him.

He made it to the cool air of the corridor, hoping that would revive him. Too late again; the world was starting to spin around him, and he cursed violently under his breath, startling a slave hurrying past with another plate of food.

He hurried up the stairs, almost ending up on all fours several times thanks to the dizzying spin everything had taken. He had to reach the hedgehog, had to warn him that the Lords would seek him out and probably attempt to steal him when they saw his rarity, not realising that he was unbroken.

If they did realise…

He swore again – his feet had become weights, heavy and clumsy, and his usually silent graceful movements had become loud and uncertain. He crashed into the wall and tried to cling to it for support, but his fingers slid over the surface and he tipped forwards.

Everything had doubled and he groaned in despair; there was the door of his room, just feet away, but he couldn't make his legs work properly and crashed to the ground, landing awkwardly.

A terrible flash of pain, and he cursed himself for hurrying too much. Now he couldn't even move, everything becoming just a blur of echoing sounds and walls, floors, ceilings.

And darkness.


	5. The Pieces are Scattered

Chaos: This is a relatively short chapter, thanks to lack of a suitable cutoff point further on. Apologies for that, and I'll try and update during the week sometime to make up for it. I'm awestruck to see that this story has many more hits in four chapters than Silver Lining has in its entirety! I take this to mean I'm doing something right, whether it's the content or just the Sonadow. –laugh- It seems a little strange considering the number of reviews it has, but I guess a lot of authors don't want to be seen reviewing a Sonadow.? Anyway, I'm very pleased about the sheer number of readers, not to mention that some people do still recognize me, so thankyou to everybody!

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The sapphire-blue hedgehog listened warily. The company downstairs was a buzz of conversation through the floor, but just a moment ago there had been loud, awkward steps close outside, with something in them that made his fur prickle with unease and his fingers tug at the collar.

Then a thud and no more. Probably one of the guests downstairs had drunk themselves into a stupor and wandered up to this hallway before collapsing, and his lip curled in contempt.

The conversation had stopped. That was why he was so apprehensive. It had stopped suddenly, just after the person falling outside. And- there! Footsteps, approaching.

Not the usual whisper of Shadow's shoes upon the stone, nor the light scurrying of slaves, but little thuds in the floor itself. Someone was sneaking towards him, and there was a whispering in the hallway.

"—somewhere around. Think he keeps it in his room?"

A light chuckle, and he couldn't keep his fur from bristling. "Here he is! Dead to the world. He got quite far…"

"He must have been hurrying. Now why would he do that?"

The door was opened with a creak and he flattened himself against the wall, the faint shadows it provided, though they were no kind of disguise.

"Ah!" A gasp of surprised delight as a pair of orange eyes caught the gleam of his own, the natural shimmer of his fur in the light that came through the clouds outside.

"Look at that! What a colour. It can't possibly be a Wild." The companion to orange-eyes said from over the shoulder of the other.

It was followed by another unpleasant snigger. "Why is it wearing a collar? And why is it in his room, eh? Think there is a reason why he hasn't chosen a wife yet?"

More laughter, and the hedgehog's lips drew back into a full snarl, fingers pulling a little at the collar, trying to loosen it.

"Well, I would say this is highly inappropriate. He'll get investigated for this. Unless, that is, we remove it for him. We should do him a favour, after all, for this wonderful feast." There was another chorus of derisive laughter from the corridor, and then a quiet groan that made the hedgehog's spines stand on end. He knew that voice only too well.

"Shh, shh! You're waking him up!" Another voice chided angrily. "Come on, we have to be quick. The sun will go down soon and I don't want to be caught out here."

The people advanced into the room quietly, spreading around the blue Wild, whose hands closed around the collar as though for some kind of comfort, eyes darting from one shadowy face to the other.

The dark Lord. These people had hurt the dark Lord, he knew it. That had been the thud outside, the hedgehog coming. To warn him? What were these other cloaked people going to do? He had nothing to defend himself with, and the rope secured him to the wall, preventing escape.

He kept his gaze as fixed and wary as ever as the Lords advanced on him, but behind it he feared.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shadow stirred.

It was dark, and cold, and his head was aching as though he had run into a wall at top speed. He let out a soft moan, attempting to pick himself up – the stones of the corridor were freezing and he was starting to shiver uncontrollably.

He made it to hands and knees, and then attempted to stand and fell into the wall with a gasp of pain – his ankle was like fire! He remembered now. He had fallen badly; he must have sprained or pulled it somehow.

He leant a hand against the wall, pushing himself up properly though he shook with the strain. He would have severe bruises tomorrow. He put a hand to his head, trying to dim the ache there, and wished sorely for a drink; his mouth felt like cotton wool and his throat was dry.

How long had he been out? Night had turned everything dark and shadowy and so, so cold. He limped to the doorway of his room, nearly falling, and with trembling fingers rang the little bell on the wall there.

A moment later came the skidding of leather-shod feet dashing towards him, and a stifled gasp. "L-Lord!" The slave asked, voice quavering with shock at the sight of him. Of course, the slaves would have been washing up everything from the feast; they would have hardly noticed his absence.

"Bring me water." He managed to force out, though his voice was little more than a whisper. "And for _God's sake _get me something hot!"

The slave sprinted away and Shadow stumbled into the room, somehow reaching the bed and collapsing into it. His entire left leg burned, while the rest of him was almost numb with cold, and he swore faintly at his weakness.

He had let himself get drugged. Fool, fool, fool! He should have bluntly refused the wine, or at least not actually tasted it. He had walked into their little joke like a newborn. He forced himself to sit up, knowing the dangers of falling asleep again when so cold, and then his eyes fell on the opposite wall.

All that remained was the shredded end of a rope tied to the loop of iron in the wall.

He felt as though someone had punched him in the gut, and was still doing it. Gone. They had taken his hedgehog, his beautiful silent blue Wild, they had taken it from him… and had hardly needed to try.

Two slaves entered, pushing a glass of water into his numb hands and draping a warmed blanket around his shoulders, though he hardly noticed.

Long after he was warm again he still felt as numb as if he was a part of the stones.


	6. Drifting

Chaos: Ummmm, I'm tired, so I'll just say here's the next chapter. I'm glad it's so popular, too! I meant to update it ealier, but my internet wentstrange this week... it's not very long, but my head hurts. -.-

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The hedgehog snapped, lightning-fast, and was rewarded with a loud cry of pain from the owner of the hand his teeth were buried in.

"Aah! Get it off, get it off!"

He tasted the metallic tang of blood and felt a combination of disgust and glee, clinging on as hard as he could until a metal bar was forced between his teeth and levered upwards, opening the gap enough for the injured hand to escape.

"Horrible rat!" A blow to his head sent him rolling, nearly choking as the collar yanked him back, but inside he was cackling with delight. He kept his eyes as wary and burning as always, hiding all emotions save an active mistrust; but now, however, his new captors were smart enough not to try and touch him lightly.

"He really is a wild one! That hedgehog Lord is insane! Why hasn't he broken him?"

"You tell me," Another voice growled from the circle of people around him. "Maybe he keeps him that way for some fun. He is a mysterious guy, who knows what he gets up to?"

"Look, it's not even aware." Another, female, voice said in disgust. "Its expression doesn't change, have you noticed?"

"That Shadow needs a lesson if he keeps slaves like this around."

There was another, more sympathetic voice. "We already did that by taking it. It will be worth a fortune with a pelt like that… and the build, it is so queer. It is not anything like a wild one at all."

"Maybe it was originally normal and he turned it like that when he bought it?"

"No, look at it. It's stupid. Maybe there's a line of escaped house slaves somewhere in the Toothrange?"

The hedgehog stopped listening, bored already by the exchange. It was always the same, had always been identical whenever anybody viewed him in the slave trader's collection.

What now, for him? Sold on to another owner? He would never get one like the dark hedgehog again; he would probably he put into a labour force somewhere. He felt an angry spark somewhere in his heart at the thought.

He could try and escape, but the rope had been retied to another iron ring and now that the end had been cut off it was even shorter, gave him even less room. He couldn't even turn round to chew through it.

Still, he would await his chance. They wouldn't guard him forever if he was docile, if he seemed more like a living stone than a threat. He had endless patience.

There was one vague worry. His home was miles, thousands of miles away. Did it even exist, now? And it was Winter, he could never get back there without freezing; one of the sole reasons he hadn't tried to escape from the black and red-streaked hedgehog's care.

Where else could he go?

But before all else, he had to escape.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They ignored Shadow's summons.

Blatantly, insultingly ignored, and the ground was frozen too hard and icy to risk traveling over by himself with his ankle still injured. All Shadow could do was rage silently, and wait for some letter, some explanation. And it had better be a damned good one as well.

It was a long wait. Hours became days that became weeks with still no word, his paired runners returning safely but with 'no reply at this time, sorry'.

His anger wore down and became a sort of cold, hollow bitterness. He sent no reward to the villages, stopped sending messengers out, stopped interacting at all.

The hedgehog would have become used to soft treatment. It wouldn't stand for being worked, they would have to break it first, and that would be a troublesome task. It would be preferable to sell it, or perhaps kill it.

Why was it bothering him so much? It had been a disgraceful slave, it refused to work and he let it refuse. He himself was disgraced by its mere presence in his castle. The others had probably done him a favour in removing it.

But as he was confined to his room, under the care of his slaves – who gladly worked in the winter, as they in return received good shelter and food – he was constantly staring at the iron loop and short ripped rope still hanging there.

Every time he saw it he felt the same pained tug, the same guilty longing for the green eyes to be blazing angrily back at him.

He knew what had happened, though he didn't admit it to himself at first. He was heartbroken. And disgusted with himself for being so. He had become attached to the hedgehog, the challenge it represented, one as stubborn as himself, and its beauty.

The beautiful shimmer of its fur, the light in its eyes that laughed at his initial attempts to quash it, the softening of that light that he had seen only twice. He ached to see it again. He could think of nothing else.

Then, a message.

He was at the stage of being able to limp around the stronghold, though with nothing even close to the grace and silence he had had previously, when a slave approached him with a scroll.

"This slave would speak to the Lord." The slave spoke, bowing to him. He nodded for it to continue – he had long since stopped speaking when it wasn't necessary – and leaned against a hanging tapestry on the wall to better support himself.

"'Lord Shadow,'" The slave read, "'The North-western Province wishes to inform you that they have relieved you of your blue slave, due to a lack of proper treatment. However, upon due consideration, the slave has been deemed useless. It was to be duly executed, but escaped before the sentence could be completed.

It is no longer deemed worthy of attention and is the property of whomsoever as should capture it, to do with as they wish.'"

Shadow silently took the scroll, waving the slave away, and reread it himself. Gods above! He sent a silent murmur of gratitude to the North-western Lord – the one-eyed cat, if his memory served him – for no doubt taking pity on him where the others merely laughed in his face.

Any news was good news, but within a few minutes his relief had changed to something darker. The scroll was dated four days ago, no doubt the time it took to deliver it, which meant the hedgehog had been free for at least that long.

While a part of him was hoping insanely that it would return to him, a much more rational part was sadly shaking its head. It was free now. There was no guarantee that he would ever see it again.


	7. In Search of the Path

Flower: 1000 hits! 1000 HITS! Oh, I'm so excited! There must be a party! Festivity! Revelry! Merrymaking! Celebration! Somebody get the paper hats!

Chaos: … Erm, excuse her. This is something of a big event for us.

Flower: One thousand hiiiiits!

Chaos: Look, stop that.

Flower: 10³!

Chaos: Yes, The Sound of Silence has reached the big 1000 on in only seven chapters. I can hardly believe it myself! This calls for something special. And thus, I've conjured up **fanart!** (lightning crashes in the background) See it here;

http// www. deviantart. com / deviation/ 28633630?qo1&qby3Achaos-flower+in3Ascraps&qhsort3Atime

Just erase the spaces in the URL. It's not particularly amazing, but it's better than nothing, ne? To add to that, it's a moment from later on in the story, so I think that's worth something. It's one of the scenes everybody's been waiting for, right? Plus, this chapter is twice as long as usual. Now, if only I could get a thousand reviews… (laughs)

(warnings; blood, violence, swearing)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Days passed, and Shadow worsened.

He couldn't help it; the point of everything seemed to have vanished. Perhaps it was some curse that the blue hedgehog had carried, to enchant him.

He felt tired. The fatigue he had felt when trying to break the hedgehog was only a shadow compared to what he now felt – he stopped trying to heal, to gradually reuse his left leg, which had been nearly normal when the news arrived. Now it became stiffer and more painful as the muscles healed the wrong way, only making him feel worse.

The inescapable depression hung over him. The other Lords mocked him, he had no interest in acquiring a wife, and with only the slaves for company the loneliness finally began to tell on him.

Perhaps the blue creature had only been a catalyst for it. Perhaps it was the obvious disrespect the Lords kept showing him. Perhaps he would have lost his will eventually. But he didn't care to work it out any more.

While he had had no news a small voice inside him had continually whispered that the hedgehog would be trying to escape, to return to him, but now the voice continually weakened and diminished. He was a fool, that was the trouble. A fool to think that anybody would want to be with him by choice, without being forced to work for him, without being tied down, without receiving a status boost from his presence.

He became a shell of a Lord, mechanically filling in the second November Journal entry two weeks too late, stating that while the Banquet had been successful, the previously acquired slave had escaped and he had also hurt himself, making it impossible to leave the castle and obtain it.

Half-truths, all of it. There was no point seeking out the hedgehog and dragging it back to him. There was no light for him in that.

He awoke suddenly, a cool breeze rushing through his quills so that he almost pulled the sheets over his head to avoid it. It had been a while since he had woken in the night, and the sky glowed deep purple, winter stars shining with cold light.

He pushed the sheets aside and crossed to the window, gazing at the heavens and the thousands of lights sparkling there. With a sigh he let his gaze wander downwards, to the thin cover of snow on the ground, shining softly in the moonlight.

An anomaly. Footprints, forming a long trek across the white purity, and he focused onto them with a frown, followed them to a dark shape almost next to the castle's walls. An intruder? No, it wasn't moving.

Then a gleam of light on the figure as a cloud shifted past the moon, and something fluttered inside him.

He practically flew down to the ground level, despite his ankle, despite his lack of energy. A thick wall couldn't have stopped him then, and he flung open the door, letting in a howl of icy wind, cousin of the breeze that had found its way into his room.

He reached the figure, knelt in the snow beside it. Unmistakable, though streaked with dirt and shredded remains of slave's clothes, were the blue fur and spines, scattered with snow.

Shock, combined with the icy cold, was making him shake. He was imagining things. Wasn't he? No, he couldn't be. He rolled the hedgehog over, noting a dark crimson stain on the remaining jacket at its shoulder, and almost feverishly felt for a pulse.

A moment later he was running for the doorbell.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The blue hedgehog was in a bad state – traveling beneath the elements for hours, and with an injury that it had barely patched up, had brought on a fever and it was remarkable that it had even made it to the castle.

Shadow swatted at the slave attempting to see to his ankle, which hadn't taken the headlong dash too kindly, and tried to continue pacing before almost falling when he placed his weight wrong.

The slave scrambled after him, caught between bowing and following, protesting. "Lord, please, this slave would help the Lord, the Lord does not want to be lamed-"

"Do not dare to tell me what I want!" Shadow snapped in reply, his worry shortening his temper to a savage point. The slave halted, stumbling hastily over apologies, and the black hedgehog flopped into a chair, a hand over his eyes.

"Very well, very well, see to it." He muttered, try to bring himself together. The hedgehog would be okay. It would survive. He had to believe that…

He turned instead to wondering what must have happened. It only took a week at most to traverse the distance from one side of the Provinces to the other, so what had taken the hedgehog so long? Had it gone the wrong way? Perhaps it had never intended to return at all, had ended up at the castle by mistake.

No, that was too far-fetched. He sighed, welcoming the touch of an icepack on his burning ankle, and cursed his worry. The slaves were doing all they could, there was no more he could do for the hedgehog than that.

And if - no, when - it recovered, what would he do with it? It would not speak to him. It would not be a slave. But, he reminded himself, it was no longer intended to be. It had been decreed a failure, useless, its purpose to be declared by whoever caught it.

It would probably leave, and something in his heart ached at that. He could not justify restraining it. He could not make it stay. He grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head.

He was insane. He had fallen for a slave, a creature that probably hated him. But then why, why had it returned? Did it know that he would heal it, shelter it?

And why was he still thinking of it as an 'it' and not a 'he'?

He sighed again. No matter what he did, everything would reside upon what happened when the hedgehog awoke.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was still alive.

That was a shock in itself. He had expected the wind and the cold and the snow to finally get the better of him before he ever reached the safety of the dark Lord's castle.

Maybe he hadn't reached the stronghold. Where was he?

Thoughts were vague and unconnected, rejoining every moment or so. His shoulder! Oww! It still hurt. And where was his collar? Had it fallen off somewhere? He had grown strangely attached to it. It had stopped the monster from slashing his neck when he ran.

Ah, he had run. He could still run, though he was much slower without shoes. That showed them. Heh. Nothing could stop him! He had thought the cold would, but… that was right, he was still alive. Where was he?

It occurred to him that that question had come up more than once and he ought to find out, so he opened his eyes. The image that greeted them didn't make any sense, however, and he closed them again.

Maybe he was dreaming. The bed felt comfortable enough that it could be a dream. He couldn't remember the last comfortable place. That reminded him; where was his collar? He should go and find it. It was one constant that he could cling to. He felt oddly bare without it.

With the disjointed thought of searching, he tried to move. Ouch! What? That was the trouble, his eyes were shut. He couldn't see what he was doing. And his shoulder, his shoulder still hurt.

Things seemed to be going in circles, and he whined in confusion.

Something cold was pressed to his forehead, and it seemed to reorganize his thoughts for him. Cold. Was he still in the snow? No, he couldn't be, because he was too comfortable, and he was alive, and his collar was gone.

With these observations cemented firmly into place, he tried opening his eyes again, and the image made more sense – it was a ceiling, which was why he hadn't recognised it. Aha! So he was inside. He had beaten the weather. Heh. There was nothing he couldn't stand up to!

But he didn't remember coming inside. He only remembered endlessly walking and running, forgetting what warmth was. Somebody had helped him. Where was he?

The cold cloth, which had stopped being cold very quickly, was removed and replaced with another one, and he sighed in relief. Somebody had helped him, yes. Somebody was still in the process of helping him.

That was strange. Who would help him? Where was he? He was tired, now. Tired from his circling thoughts, the havoc the fever was wreaking on him, and he didn't have the energy to find out.

Sleeping was easier. He would sleep…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shadow was striving to keep his face blank, though his eyes keep flitting from place to place, revealing the turmoil he felt. The hedgehog had become delirious, but now it slept again – it had been the same way all day, never really waking properly.

He couldn't help fretting, without any other distraction for his mind. And the injury in itself was worrying, for it was new – a triple set of deep slashes across the shoulder, which the hedgehog seemed to have simply plastered with snow and wet loam to halt the bleeding.

Which meant it had occurred recently, and the creature hadn't taken the time to help itself properly. Why? What had caused the wound? It was no mere accident. And it meant that the hedgehog had been chased-

"My Lord, this slave-"

"Yes?" He answered abruptly, too abruptly, near-desperate for any distraction or news.

"The Eastern Province Lord has requested audience with my Lord. He waits outside."

Shadow's brows furrowed dangerously. One of the Lords, and most especially the Eastern one, was the last thing he wanted to face right now. Still, he could not refuse. Accursed conduct! If it wasn't for the required manners, none of this would have happened in the first place.

He opened the door, but did not invite the purple-cloaked Lord in. "How can I be of assistance?" He asked, somehow suppressing the urge to glare.

"I have to come to pick up the hedgehog." The Lord replied, looking up and down Shadow distastefully.

"I'm afraid I do not follow you."

"I have been in pursuit of the blue hedgehog that you owned previously, and I have reason to believe it is taking shelter within your threshold."

"I am the only hedgehog here." Shadow said, and then continued despite himself. "And I received word that the creature was declared free property."

A flicker of annoyance in the orange eyes; the Lord hadn't expected him to know. "Yes. And I caught it two days after the notice was delivered. You would do well to hand it over before I am forced to demand search rights."

"It was stated useless as a slave."

An unpleasant grin crossed the Lord's face. "Did I say I was keeping it as a slave?"

Shadow's eyes hardened into red stone. An audible crack came from the door handle as his grip on it tightened considerably.

"It has not set foot into this place. I would thank you to leave now." He said coldly, and shut the door in the Lord's face. He seethed for about two seconds, resisting the urge to snarl, and then turned and grabbed a passing slave.

"Take the hedgehog. Hide it somewhere, and hide it well." He commanded. "I don't want to be able to find it even if I was to search this place for a week."

The slave nodded, quailing in terror at the strength of the black hedgehog's hold on its wrist, and then dashed down the corridor. Shadow let out his breath; he had to remain in control.

Any minute-

There. A sharp knocking on the door, and he opened it, silently berating the handle for being made of bone – it was splintered from his previous grip.

"I invoke the right to search these premises, under suspicion of you withholding my property." The Eastern Lord said in a bored way, sweeping past him into the hallway and eyes immediately darting around for any sign of disturbance.

"I should force you to leave." Shadow muttered, following him with arms folded.

"Oh? And risk breaking the Province Alliance?" Was the sneered reply.

"You have caused the first offence! You sabotaged my drink at the Banquet!"

"I most certainly did not." The Lord replied haughtily as they moved down the hallway, sidestepping into each room briefly to let his two slaves search. "Of course, it is possible that one of my slaves could have tampered with the bottle. They can be resentful creatures."

Shadow's eyes narrowed in anger. But the Lord was right; he could not find a base for accusing him, and as such no reason for preventing his entry. He only hoped his slave had been fast enough to get the blue Wild well hidden…

"Perhaps," He conceded. "But still, you had no right to remove my property without proper consultation."

"Oh? I am afraid it was concluded that you had no rational frame of mind on the matter. Keeping an unbroken slave in your sleeping quarters? You are lucky we have not had you investigated."

Shadow strove with difficulty to keep his temper. Shouting here would make no difference, it would only give an even better argument for having him demoted from his position and ridiculed.

"It was in the position of a guard." He ground out as they ascended to the second floor, the other Lord's ever-watchful eyes becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Of course it was." The Lord said condescendingly, causing Shadow's spines to shiver in rage. He said no more, unable to trust his long-suffering temper, and managed to hold himself in check for the next hour until the purple-cloaked Lord was satisfied.

"Well," Came the eventual sneer. "Perhaps I have been mistaken. My apologies. Good day to you." There was no sincerity whatsoever and it was all the black hedgehog could do not to throttle him there and then.

The Lord paused in the doorway, cloak twirling around him thanks to a cold breeze from outside. "And, from friend to friend… perhaps you should acquire a walking stick. That limp is almost embarrassing."

Shadow kept his composure admirably until the Lord's carriage had moved out of sight across the snowy landscape.

Then he grabbed the nearest ornament – a glass vase – and hurled it with all his strength down the corridor before leaning against the stone wall, his breathing harsh with fury. He had won, he assured himself. The Lord had not discovered the blue hedgehog, and had not found any more just cause to question his authority.

Still, he felt like the root of some big joke, and he was beginning to get entirely sick of it. 'From friend to friend'?

Bastard.


	8. Shelter in Darkness

Chaos: Wow, the feedback I got for the art was pretty impressive; thanks everybody! And it appears my average review count has gone up from three a chapter... to **four**! Dun dun dunnn! (laugh) Now I'm inspired to do an even bigger and better fanart… of course, first I need to write more of this, the updates are starting to catch up to the part I'm still writing. Oh, and a second note – I've written a commentary for this fic, just for fun, so anybody who's interested in a copy, give me an email. In the meantime, enjoy the chapter!

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The hedgehog awoke with a jolt, to near-total darkness. He shivered, sitting up and attempting to see through the inky shadows without success. What had happened? He could hardly remember.

He rubbed his neck, wincing in discomfort – it felt strange without the heavy collar adding protection and a little warmth, and made his torn shoulder ache all the more. Had he made it to the dark Lord's castle?

He couldn't have. Why would he be left in darkness again? But he was unrestrained. Perhaps orange-eyes was about to unleash another horror on him. In his weakened state, he wasn't sure how much he could take, and in the dark he couldn't use his usual tactic of dodging until whatever foe he had was weakened from its own efforts.

He shivered again, in worry, and slid his feet off the side of the stone slab he was resting on, with only a single blanket to keep out the cold. The floor was icy and he twitched in dislike before setting his weight down fully.

At least he had recovered some strength, though he felt nauseous. The continual fights orange-eyes had forced him into had been severely sapping his energy, but he had still managed to get away. Or had he?

He put a hand to his head and moaned unhappily before feeling his way to the wall. Stones, identical to the floor. He reached up as high as he could, but could feel no ceiling. So, he could jump if something came after him. He scrambled around the room, working out the dimensions of it, before classing it as too large to determine and returning quickly to the stone slab, which offered some sort of familiarity.

At least he could hide behind it and perhaps dodge if he was attacked, though he severely hoped he wouldn't be. There was a deep weariness in him that hadn't quite dissipated, and hatred and adrenaline couldn't tide him over much longer, especially since he was still sick.

Pah, what a fool he was for getting hit on the way out. He might have gotten further had he not been injured, allowing the beast – that was the only way he could describe it, for it was far bigger and more savage than the related creatures he had known in his homeland – to track his blood-scent and not giving him time enough to patch himself up.

Having worked out, however imprecisely, his surroundings, he pulled the blanket about himself for added warmth, since it was too cold to be healthy in the large place. He sniffed suspiciously, trying to detect his location all the better, and smelt wet earth. He was underground?

All the more cause for worry. But there must be some way out, for somebody had to have put him here, not to mention bandaged his shoulder and probably giving him medicine.

Orange-eyes wouldn't do that. But then why was he imprisoned? Perhaps he had reached the dark Lord after all. But again, why was he locked up? Was the older hedgehog still trying to break him?

He felt an unexpected tug of sadness at that idea. He had thought he would find safety, not another prison. It wasn't fair! Nothing was fair!

All he could think now was that he was finally getting tired, sick of it all. Sick of fighting back and getting beaten and locked up and hiding his words away. How long before he cracked, and was reduced to 'yes, my Lord' and 'no, my Lord' like all the other tame pets?

Not long, if orange-eyes had much to do with it. Putting him into fight after fight, trying to find his weakness, his limit, the point at which he was bettered and begged to be put to mindless tasks. He hated him, he hated him, he hated him!

It must have been about half an hour in this place now, and the anger was a welcome alternative to feeling sorry for himself. He must have reached the dark Lord, he decided, orange-eyes would have thrown him straight back into the arena, and nobody else would be able to shield him from the purple-cloaked Lord.

So he was foolish to expect kindness here. Fine. He had always been told he was stupid, perhaps that was right.

But he would die before either one of the Lords, or anybody else for that matter, made him into a slave.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"The crypt?" Shadow asked faintly, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Yes, my Lord…"

"The crypt? Really?"

"Y-yes… my Lord…" The slave stammered, unsure of the meaning of this reaction.

Shadow sighed and let his shoulders slump in weariness. "Fine, yes, good. The last place I would look. Thank you." He murmured, handing a small bag of silver pieces to the slave, who nearly choked and stumbled over the words of gratitude.

The black Lord left it there, making his way out into the grounds and down the stone stairs to the wine cellar, which was really no more than a large hall connecting to the crypt, and the cool air which greeted him. The crypt? God forbid. His ancestry would throw a fit if they were alive to do so. But it was undeniably the best hiding place; he ought to pay his slaves more often.

He made his way to the back door of the wine storage, fiddling with the latch in the darkness – there would be a flame-torch in the crypt itself, but he would need to find and strike it himself.

The door opened with a reluctant creak, sticking on the uneven stone slabs, and he immediately shivered and drew his cloak closer around himself at the gust of cool air from within.

He hoped the hedgehog was still okay… at least the chill air would help remove the dregs of its fever, but it would be bad for its shoulder and the other bruises and scrapes it seemed to have acquired.

He couldn't help shuddering at the thought of what could have caused such a hideous wound. What had the Eastern Lord been doing to his beautiful hedgehog? He reached the bottom of the flight of the stairs, squinting in the gloom (even his good night vision wasn't designed for these conditions) and feeling around the wall for the torch.

His hand brushed the metal bracket that held the wood, and a second later his instinct sparked; he grabbed the torch and leapt to the side in one movement.

There was a painful thud as a body hit the wall just where he had been standing, and a stifled sort of whimper before the silence resumed. Heart thundering, – with his bad leg, he had hardly dodged in time – Shadow scraped the wood against the stones, hard, and was rewarded with a brief spark which quickly flared into a flame as the flammable materials at the end of the torch ignited.

The crypt leapt into view, huge and shadowy grey, haunting in the flickering light of the fire, and illuminating the hedgehog, which scrambled away from him, shielding its eyes. It regained its footing at the edge of the light the torch threw and faced him warily.

Shadow took several deep breaths to calm himself before focusing on it properly. Then he nearly stopped breathing altogether – the blue hedgehog's eyes were aflame with a hatred that startled him with its intensity.

It hadn't attacked him because it had mistaken him for someone else in the dark. It knew exactly who he was, and it… hated… him?

The Wild circled around the light a little, keeping a fighting stance, though it must have been an effort, for he saw it sway briefly as it moved, a flicker of uncertain balance. His mind latched onto that eagerly – it was sick, it must be confused; why else would it hate him? He must be mistaken. Please, let him be mistaken…

There was a brief bang and he spun around. The wooden door came faintly into view, dim in the firelight and swinging back and forth slowly, and the fur on the back of his neck prickled.

"Who's there?" He called, hearing the hedgehog's breathing quicken behind him. Something shifted on the edge of the circle of light, flashing past the dim shadows beyond, and he took a step back automatically as a deep growl issued from the darkness.

The torch wasn't much of a weapon, and his leg impaired his speed – though not by much, significantly enough to disadvantage him in a fight, and he severely hoped it wasn't going to come to that.

No such luck, for the shadow rushed at him suddenly, and before he had time to focus he had to jump to the side to avoid it. The sudden movement made the torch sputter, and for a moment he beheld a flashing nightmare vision of gleaming teeth snapping closed just where his spines had been.

Then the flame flared up and he thrust it out into the side of his attacker, nearly stumbling but for once managing to keep his feet.

The thing – whatever it was – had some kind of thick shaggy hair, which caught alight almost instantly. There was a howl of surprised pain, near-deafening, and Shadow took advantage of the moment to do the most sensible thing.

Run.

He found the wall somehow and used it as a support to dash back to the hedgehog, which had frozen, awestruck, at the sight of the blaze that was fast forming a bonfire as the hungry flames tore through the wiry hair.

Shadow didn't pause for words – the creature was screaming now, writhing, attempting to snap at the fire on its back, and they couldn't afford to waste time; he grabbed the hedgehog's arm and near-dragged it back to the doorway, both coughing in the foul-smelling smoke that was billowing up.

Then they were in the wine cellar, and the door was shut and latched behind them. Still, Shadow didn't stop until they were outside and the pained howls were distant and muffled.

Then, he leant against the wall and let the aftershock reach him, the rush of terror and adrenalin subsiding into a weary ache somewhere in his chest. The thing… he hadn't got a close look at it, but it had to have been twice his height and ten times his bulk, built like a tank. What was it? Where had it come from?

It was at that moment that the hedgehog, still in his grip, turned and sank its teeth into his arm.


	9. Return to the Beaten Track

Chaos: It's that updating time again! Well, what can I say about this chapter? Personally I like it, but you readers may find it a little dull after the last one. On another note, I'm finding it quite fun to work out the lack of reviews. I've narrowed it down to three things;

1. No review responses mean that reviewing seems pointless.

2. Authors are unwilling to be seen reviewing a Sonadow (maybe why there are several anonymous reviews). I find this a little silly, since it's not like this is going to become some kind of OOC smut-ridden mess. I hope!

3. Everybody who reads it gives a review. This means that three or four people are reading each chapter about twenty-five times each. (laughs)

**Update: **Ryuko reminds me that review responses are now not allowed. I remember checking over most of the site when it was just a rumour and finding nothing, but now they actually do have a section where it says they're not allowed. Damn! Ah well, I'll probably use the 'reply' option on the review page then. Though I don't find it very nice of ffnet to impose this kind of thing, I think reader-author interaction is important for criticism, friend-making, and of course ego-boosting. (laugh)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shadow hadn't experienced this feeling before. He wasn't quite sure what it was, whether it even had a name. All he could tell was that it was something akin to desperation, or perhaps longing, and it was eating a hole in him.

He had thought that having the blue creature return would be like a godsend, a miracle, an immediate end to his misery. He could have laughed at that now.

"Please."

He felt as though he was in several pieces – one was angry, wanting to scream at the hedgehog for not speaking, for getting kidnapped, for hating him without any logical reason he could find, for somehow capturing his heart and being so careless with it. Another wanted to just curl up and cry, childlike, and give up on the creature.

Then there was the third one, which was hungering almost feverishly to get past that terrible hatred, the mistrust that had never quite subsided before, and regain the silence.

"I am not going to hurt you."

For it wasn't silence any longer. There was only a grating growl, showing that maybe the hedgehog was tired, maybe it was sick, but there was about as much chance of it letting him close as there was it discussing the weather with him.

It was collared again, in the same place as before, but that didn't make him feel any better. Worse, in fact, because it wasn't the ideal area for a recovery, and he had no other right to keep it.

A dark droplet of blood fell and hit the carpet, but he had stopped noticing about the time that the floor where he kneeled had gained enough of a stain to be ruined.

"I want to help." There was an unexpected tremor in his voice, as though it was unused to speaking with such feeling and fervour. As indeed it was.

The growl faltered a little, but the eyes remained as fixed as ever. During its absence, the blue hedgehog seemed to have become even more like a savage animal and there was no longer even a flicker of emotion that it didn't keep hidden.

It had been hurt somehow. And not just physically. Hurt enough to give up even a wisp of a hope that anybody would do anything but harm it. And yet still it didn't give up, didn't break.

He didn't know what had gone on at the Eastern Lord's territory, what trauma had moulded it into creating such a shell for itself but somehow not had not broken its spirit in the process…

But he fervently wished never to find out.

"Please..."

He had thrown down any shield around himself, exposing all but his darkest emotions, for nothing else would be able to get through that shell now.

There was another falter in the horrible sound, a long pause, and he wondered what thoughts were flitting behind the angry hostility that burned green.

Then the growl faded slowly, and when it had completely died the hedgehog's jaws loosened a little, gradually pulling apart until Shadow could extract his hand, the Lord unable to suppress a wince passing across his features as he did so.

When he was entirely free and hurriedly wrapping a thin sheet around his hand - if only to stop the blood loss for the carpet was beyond saving - the hedgehog slumped down, as though it had worn out all its energy in the decision it had just made.

It wouldn't look at him as he reached once more for the bandages on its shoulder, gently untying and then unwinding them to clean the wound, and he could feel tension in its muscles under his fingers.

But it didn't growl. And it didn't bite.

That step, as small as it might be, was sufficient for now. The hedgehog could still be saved. And that was enough for him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The trauma of the previous day must have affected Shadow more than he realised, for he slept so deeply that the sun was well on its way to its zenith when he became groggily aware that there were loud noises beyond his slumber.

With a brief moan of discomfort, he snaked out an arm to grab one of the free pillows and jammed it over his head to muffle the noise, uncaring of etiquette since the person disturbing him obviously had never entertained the concept.

Still, his curved spines prevented the pillow from blocking as much sound as he would have liked, and he reluctantly forced himself to listen. Somebody was crying out with a sort of shocked pain, and it was underlain with a vicious growling which drilled into his ears mercilessly.

He tossed the pillow aside and turned over, sitting up and putting a hand to his head sleepily. The room was flooded with sunlight, which surprised him, and one of his slaves was yelling opposite him and shaking its arm violently, at the end of which the hedgehog was snarling.

"What… are you doing?" He asked, voice still soft with drowsiness but enough to make the slave jump in surprise. The sudden jerk was too much for the hedgehog, which released its teeth from the servant's fingers and settled back, growling a warning.

"I, I… just… I was… bandages…" The slave stammered in reply, shooting shocked glances at the blue creature and quite forgetting the usual courtesy as it rubbed its injured hand.

Shadow muttered something under his breath, still a little unwilling to think clearly and not just doze off again, before lifting his voice. "Leave it. I will see to it."

The slave nodded hesitantly and shot one last look at the hedgehog, whose growl had faded away as Shadow spoke, before walking out into the corridor and shutting the door with no small amount of relief.

Shadow sighed and pushed the sheet aside, shivering in the crisp morning air and completely resigning himself to being unable to sleep the entire day away, much as he wanted to.

He stretched briefly, made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out his quills, and slid his feet to the floor. His breakfast tray had been left on the side of the nearest table, and though it was now cold he accepted the food gladly.

He offered a piece of toast to the hedgehog, which ignored him, gaze fixed on the floor. He sighed, wondering dryly whether it had acquired a taste for living flesh now since it seemed to bite in preference to any other defense.

He pondered that; why didn't it kick or punch? Maybe it was because drawing blood always caused more of a shock to the opponent and would make it more likely to back down. But even so, he would expect some other form of attack…

In his musing he had automatically adorned his usual shirt, but a subtle difference in it brought him back to his senses and he stared – the front had been slashed, just a little, but enough to tear the fabric not a centimeter from his chest.

It looked like he hadn't quite avoided those hideous teeth after all, and the thought made him shiver as he tugged the shirt off and replaced it with another, silkier one that was regrettably not as good at keeping the chill out.

He had been lucky not to receive a scratch…

And the thing was still in the crypt, he reminded himself. He thought wistfully that the fire may have killed it, but he couldn't assume it was so until he saw for himself, and the thought made another tremor run down his spine.

Later. He had other things to sort out first, like replacing the hedgehog's bandaging again – the wound was still too fresh to leave for too long. He set about the task gratefully, noting the blue Wild's reaction; it was less tense than before, but still didn't look at him, and it was beginning to feel decidedly odd to him to not have the gaze burning into him for this amount of time.

He frowned a little, unsure. The hedgehog seemed to have compromised. It didn't view him as a threat any longer, it seemed, but that didn't mean it would register him in any other way.

He felt an unexpected tingle of pain at the thought, wondering whether it would ever actually trust him – after all, what reason did it have to do so? – and stood once more, pulling his cloak around his shoulders for some kind of reassurance.

With a sigh he crossed to the door with the torn shirt, heading down to the slave's quarters to have them attempt to repair it, and trying not to brood about the blue hedgehog.


	10. A Leap Forward

Chaos: Hey, look at that: ten reviews for chapter nine! Guess my musings struck some of you, huh? (laughs) Anyway, much thanks to you all, nice reviews are what make me write faster! And if I may say, this chapter was absolute murder to write. MURDER I tell you! And personally, I still cringe at it. But it's the tenth chapter, and that's a nice milestone – not to mention an indication that I should get moving with the next fanart. (sweatdrops) As always, commentary upon request.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When all but the faintest sounds of his progress had faded, the Wild chanced looking up, gaze flying around to room to check for his absence.

He breathed a sigh of relief, letting himself relax and finally turning to the storm of confusion inside him. He had been waiting for a punishment, a rebuke, some kind of admonishment for biting the pet that had attempted to come near him, and was bewildered when nothing came but an offer of food.

It stirred up all the pained chaos that had swelled the previous night and he hid his eyes for fear of the dark Lord noticing the weakness. He wanted to hate him, he wanted to snap at him and prevent any opportunity for the trust to grow again.

For that was what it had been that made him return and not dash for the south and probably freeze along the way; some thin kind of trust that expected assistance from the black hedgehog.

When he had been locked up again, or so it had seemed, the pain of betrayal was far sharper than the usual resentment, and it had nearly made him finally break down – anger had been the only thing he had fallen back to, for the passion of it kept him fighting.

But he couldn't hate when the Lord had looked at him so… the emotion, he couldn't place it, but there was such a longing for forgiveness! He could have been bitter, could have metaphorically turned his shoulder to the older hedgehog and made him feel the same pain he did.

Yet he didn't. The inevitable trust had risen again, somehow, against all his efforts to fight it, and now it was too late. It was even stronger than before, feeding off his dependence; he couldn't care for his shoulder properly without the Lord's assistance, though he hated to admit it.

He couldn't protect himself any longer. He couldn't keep up a shield of hostility any more, it had been so long now that a part of him leapt at anything that might not be a threat and clung.

He couldn't cope by himself, though admitting it made him want to bite something again. Hatred and silence was his last resort, his last option to stop himself being broken into obedience. And he couldn't hate the black hedgehog.

What he betrayed him? Tried to hurt him?

He trusted too much already. He would shatter into a thousand pieces if the Lord turned on him, and he hadn't even heard his real name yet. He longed, he ached to speak again, to have a friendly face to talk to, somebody that would join him and not force him to work or fight or glare. He had subdued the pain and grief too long, it was eating him inside!

What if the black hedgehog, the closest he had to an ally, cast him aside? How could he afford to trust him any more than he already did? How could he ever keep his promise if he didn't?

These strange people, they were too strong and too many in number. Being captured after his escape from the other Lords so quickly, and so easily, had taught him that. He could never find his way home without some kind of help.

He brought his hands over his face, but even that couldn't stop him from quaking in terror.

He couldn't do this by himself any longer. He just couldn't.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Small rippling waves scudded across the lake, stirred into motion by an icy breeze. Even with his cloak on, Shadow could feel the chill of it pushing like icy fingers through his fur, but the cold sharpened his thoughts enough to make him stay on the stone bench.

He watched the black water, the edge of which was encrusted with a thin layer of ice, and tapped slender red-splashed fingers against his chin.

He was thinking about the hedgehog, of course. He couldn't avoid dwelling upon it no matter how hard he tried, and he knew he couldn't hide from his thoughts forever.

Was he really nothing in its eyes? Why else would it ignore him? The creature's nature was bewildering to him; every move it made seemed to contradict the previous one.

It returned to him, then hated him, then ignored him completely.

Try as he might, he couldn't make any sense from that. Maybe the hedgehog was mentally ill? But no, he knew, he could feel that it wasn't. He sighed into the chilly air, causing his breath to cloud into view.

It was a mystery, and the unpredictability of it kept unseating him, pushing the boundaries of his self-control to points that he couldn't have imagined. What was it about the creature that so fascinated him that he couldn't let it alone?

He shook his head slowly. There was no way he could work it out now, not with this new baffling twist. He might as well make as much of the hedgehog's stay as he could, since it would no doubt want to leave once it was healed.

He tried to resign himself to that, but he couldn't help a little lurch somewhere in his chest, as though there was nothing below his heart and it was treading air.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He went around in a half-distracted way for the rest of the day, not really paying attention to what was happening around him. He was avoiding going back to his room, or the crypt, and though he berated himself for it his feet wouldn't turn towards either.

Finally darkness stole over the horizon and he quashed his nerves and moved back up the stairs.

The hedgehog was already asleep, curled up rather like a cat, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief, moving to his bed. He was being a coward, he knew. This was not a solution. But, dare he admit it, he was scared to face the Wild again, to find out why it was avoiding him as much as he was avoiding it.

With that uneasy realization, he dropped into a light sleep.

And thanks to that, he awoke with a start. The room was pitch black to his eyes for several minutes as they adjusted, and he tried to pinpoint what had disturbed him.

A second after he had begun to shut his eyes again, the sound came. It was a quiet whimper, and immediately sent a shiver up his spine. The drowsy warmth of sleep vanished, his senses jumping to full alert, and he silently sat up to survey the grey room.

Nothing was out of place, but then the sound came again and he nearly jumped for the door, breathing quickening. There was a note in it that set his fur on end and made him feel icy cold, and his eyes darted almost feverishly to pinpoint the source.

It came again, lasting longer this time, and he realised that it was the hedgehog that was making the noise, trembling almost indiscernibly in the shadows. It was a shock to hear the noise come from the creature, which had always remained stubborn and strong, and he was suddenly anxious to have it stop.

It wasn't right; it didn't fit. He slid to the floor, moving to the creature's side but then pausing. What could he do? How could he calm it down? It was shivering harder as whatever nightmare it was suffering increased, and the whimpering started again, louder.

With a movement that was shaky with something bordering panic, he put a hand to its spines, and when that had no effect started stroking them a little awkwardly. He had no idea what to do; he had never been in a situation like this before and he was treating the Wild as if it would explode at any moment.

The hedgehog moved under his hand and he almost jumped back. Its eyes flashed open, bright with terror, and it suddenly clung to him, desperate for some comfort in the echo of the nightmare.

Shadow froze, heart thundering with alarm. He hadn't been close to anybody since his early childhood, and the warmth of the hedgehog's body was something alien; his first instinct was to throw it off, almost expecting some kind of attack.

It was holding onto him tightly, face buried in the fur of his shoulder and still shaking, and he didn't know how to respond. It had been too long since he had had close contact with anybody, let alone his Wild, the last one he had expected to come near him.

He stayed still, shocked, and it slowly calmed. The grip on him gradually faded as it returned to its senses, leaning back to meet his eyes.

For a long moment it looked only faintly surprised, a toned-down version of what his face must have shown, and then a sudden flash of fear crossed its eyes and it quailed in alarm.

It expected punishment, Shadow realised faintly. It was waiting for him to strike it, furious at this transgression. There was no hate, no contempt – how could there be, in the light of that last action?

He still didn't know what to do, stunned, but his body remembered what his mind could not.

As though the movement was perfectly natural, his arms encircled the hedgehog just under its backspines and pulled it close once again. He felt a ripple of surprise move over the other creature, so close that he almost experienced it himself, and then suddenly all the tension went out of its shoulders and it relaxed against him.

There was some kind of immense relief in the movement, as though it had been on edge for every second that he had known it and had finally let down its guard.

And though he wasn't sure why, suddenly he felt as though a great weight had fallen from him too, and a cloud of little joyful bubbles had risen in its place.


	11. Ever Onwards

Chaos: And here we go again! At this point, looking back, I can hardly believe I've kept to a regular weekly-update schedule – there's a lot to be said for writing a good chunk of the story before posting anything, not to mention planning out the entire scope of it. Part One of the story looks to be finished soon, and numbering around 100 pages. That's twenty-five chapters in total, at least! After that, I'll be taking a break to map out and pre-write Part Two. That way, I can keep the updates steady. And you know the drill; email for commentary.

Flower: Thanks for keeping me going, everybody! Oh, and especially to Ryuko, for a beautiful fan-comic (should have mentioned that earlier, erk). Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Everything changed.

The blue hedgehog had shed its angry shell at long last. Once again its eyes were continually fixed on Shadow, but instead of wariness there was a warm spark, some feeling he couldn't place, in the green light.

It followed him everywhere, and he did not object. Far from it; he let it do whatever it wanted, delighted at the difference in its manner. Though it shirked, predictably, at the slave's winter attire, it conceded to a thick cloak to cover its shoulder, and so Shadow let it come outside too.

He himself felt as though he was soaring. He spent most of the morning moving around the castle simply to see that it still followed him – somehow he had previously felt a kind of guilt whenever he looked at it, a thought that he was wrong in keeping it, but now that sense was miraculously absent and he could hardly believe it.

The world seemed far brighter, as though it had been muted to him before. He did everything with new enthusiasm, and actually smiled several times throughout the day. The action was almost unfamiliar to him, but like the hug it sprung up perfectly naturally and he barely noticed, though several slaves paused in the corridors to stare at him in something close to awe.

-.-.-

The Wild spent the day in a kind of blissful delight. The change in the black hedgehog was almost astonishing – he had stopped being a cold, distant Lord and was more like an excited child, showing him everything.

He could sense that he was being shown the Shadow behind the guard, and that nobody else had seen that side of the hedgehog for years. Somehow he felt proud and Shadow's new trust in him was cemented when the black hedgehog let him go outside.

Outside! We hadn't been able to relish it before, and the way the horizon leapt into the distance was a treat he hadn't realised he had missed. It was a bitingly cold day – Winter's hold was slipping and it fought like a demon.

He had never known such chills before, and understood why the people of this strange land always wore clothes. It brought up a nostalgic thought of his home, and a stir of restless need somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

He had to go back, if only because he had promised. He cast a guilty glance at Shadow, who was surveying the sky carefully, allowing him his freedom.

He had forgotten that he wasn't staying here. He couldn't, not while his family and friends might need him.

His bright mood sank with a mix of disappointment and homesickness. He couldn't let himself get too attached to Shadow before he left, but it was fast becoming too late for that.

The dark hedgehog turned and smiled at him, and his heart flipped at the sight. He wasn't at all used to seeing such a gentle look from his companion, and it only made the pang stronger and more painful.

Shadow was doing this for him, and in return all he was going to do was leave.

How could he explain himself? It had been so long since he had last spoken that he no longer remembered which words would work, and he had made such a fervent decision not to speak to any person on this horrid land that the idea made him strangely guilty.

The black hedgehog was the kind of person that had sent the Slavers in the first place, how dare he forgive him? Nausea rose inside him with the nasty turn that his thoughts were taking - he had to make a decision on this.

"Are you alright?" A gentle question, a hand on his uninjured shoulder, the touch light in case it was rejected.

Shadow was different. Maybe he hadn't been at first, but he was now, and the thought of leaving his companion made him go weak at the knees. He could still compromise. He needed an ally.

_I won't speak_, he thought, _I haven't forgotten. I'll return soon._

_But not yet. I want to stay. _

_Just a while longer… let me stay._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It didn't speak. Shadow no longer cared.

Just having it free, and yet still with him, was enough to please him. As long as he had that nothing seemed difficult, and it was almost airily that he lifted two thin short-swords from their place, hung on the wall.

He hadn't held them in a long time, not since he had been trained, but he wasn't worried, not in the slightest. His hands moved around the handles, flipping one blade back so that it pointed upwards behind his arm, reaching just past his elbow and prepared for backwards slashes.

With one look at the hedgehog – watching him, completely ignoring the slave that held it, and he could see that it understood perfectly what he was doing – he strode to the door which another slave held open.

The grass, covered with a light frost, crunched beneath his feet and added a slight rhythm to his walk, the beat preventing any doubt from rising.

There, the door to the wine cellar. It was a heavy one, fixed in place with a large metal latch, and yet he could see that it was bulging out slightly as though it had been rammed from inside.

The creature was still alive, still in there.

His grip over the sword handles tightened in preparation and he lifted one hand, using the pommel of the sword to lift the latch, and then kicked open the door.

He almost immediately had to jump to the side to avoid being trampled by the animal that burst out. It charged into the middle of the grass and paused, reeling at the sudden change in light.

It was a hideous sight – a large amount of its fur had been incinerated, leaving hideous burns on the skin, but even without them it was an ugly creature.

Some kind of wolf, though bigger and more brutish than any he had seen, with dark grey fur and skin of a lighter shade, a long pale snout scarred from battle, and small cold yellow eyes.

It had adjusted quickly, sides heaving from its rush, and turned to him the moment it caught his scent. He tensed, and dodged as it charged him, flipping one sword around to slash its muzzle.

It let out an enraged howl, jumping away and twisting in midair to land heavily, facing him. Then it charged again, and Shadow repeated the action.

He felt no fear, which surprised him. The wolf was out in the open, where he could see that it was large and fierce, but not fast enough. As an added advantage, he knew the terrain, where and how to stand. His skills might be rusty, but they were still adequate for this foe.

It wasn't a creature of nightmare any more, a formless shapeless thing. It was already bleeding.

This time it leapt at him, claws outstretched, and he jumped to the side, blocking one of its paws with a sword as it tried to turn in midair, and landed a kick in its belly.

With that he darted away - out of reach - in an instant. The creature hit the ground, rolling, and scrambled up, panting with rage. His blow had done nothing but madden it and now he understood.

The blue hedgehog wore no shoes or gloves. Punching and kicking this kind of opponent was useless unless delivered brutally hard and repeatedly, and that kind of action would be more likely to break a hand or foot that was unshielded first.

The beast had paused, regaining its breath, wild with anger but puzzled by the speed of its opponent. Now Shadow had to be careful, or it would turn and run.

Its breath snorted out into the air in a cloud, and it began circling him warily as he remained still, tense and ready.

When it was behind him it charged. Predictable. Shadow ducked, crossed his arms so that each sword stuck out behind him, and half-curled. The wolf, bewildered by this show of spikes, skidded and slowed, having to jump over the hedgehog awkwardly and receiving a large dose of scratches in the process from quills and blades alike.

With a scared yelp it darted to a safe distance, staring as Shadow returned to his previous guard pose. It had been cut and bruised and had yet to lay a mark on the hedgehog, and though the wounds were superficial its anger began to melt into fear.

Shadow waited for it, light on his feet and senses fully alert. It was because of this that he detected the burn of eyes watching, movement, faint noise somewhere behind him, and he spun – was it a trick of the light, or had a shadowy shape just vanished behind the castle walls?

Noticing his distraction, the desperate beast charged once again.

A blur of blue spines came from nowhere, hurtling into the wolf's side and knocking it off-balance as Shadow dodged back by reflex, the teeth barely missing him. As the creature regained its footing, looking frantically for the new opponent, the blue Wild landed opposite them, the collision having sent it rebounding.

It had a hand clasped to its shoulder, but grinned wearily at Shadow. The wolf had had enough; it turned and ran. With no time to stop, Shadow hurtled after it, accelerating into a full sprint dangerously quickly.

Speed and agility were qualities that he had developed in abundance from natural talent, and before the beast knew what was happening he had reached it and leapt forward – both swords flashed and the wolf dropped like a stone.

That was one danger dealt with, the black Lord thought with satisfaction as he tugged the blades free, chest heaving for breath after the sudden run, but there was something else.

Something or someone, watching him fight… was he mistaken?

With an uncertain frown he hurried back.


	12. Where the Routes Part

Chaos: Agh. Such a long time since I updated! Aaaargh! Forgive me! Man, did I have a lot of work to do. Well, now that it's easter I should be able to get a good chunk done before I go back to school, and I've made this chapter double-length as a sort of apology for it being such a long time and for everybody being so patient.Not to mention almost 4000 hits! (faints) I'd better hury up and think of a fanart to do... well either way, here's the nextchapter, andsorry againfor the wait.And also, there was a slight slipup in perspective referrals last chapter, to anybody who noticed, oops. I do try to make sure the continuity is good, but it's hard when the style switches alarmingly between both characters.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was paranoid. Completely paranoid.

Shadow had scoured every inch of the castle, even looking around the grounds while there was still light for it. Nothing. No footprints, no sound, no watching eyes. Still, he wasn't satisfied. There was a loose corner in his mind somewhere, some point he was missing – just out of his reach and yet maddening close.

With an aggravated sigh he carefully finished untying the blue hedgehog's bandages once more, already so accustomed to the task that his fingers worked automatically.

Its attack against the wolf had reopened the slashes, but had done no more than that despite the impact it had had, and he wondered. It had not been a move familiar to him, intriguing and a welcome distraction from the nagging sense of being followed.

Unconsciously he had started speaking to it, bringing his thoughts to the surface where he could consider them properly.

"That was a strange move, indeed. And fast too." He mused approvingly, lifting the roll of bandages and pulling off a long strip. The hedgehog offered no explanation, though he had far from expected one, the twitching of its ears the only sign that it was listening to him. He wondered for a moment whether it understood at all.

"Spinning in a jump, that was it." He said in realization, as he ran over his memories again. "Using spines as both an advantage and a defense… clever. No doubt it would have had more effect had you not being injured."

He finished winding the material around the Wild's arm – he was starting to quite enjoy this task. He was not used to doing work for others, yet found that he liked it, the satisfaction and responsibility that was far more personal than simple tithes and Lordly arguments over territory.

"Tch," He murmured, deftly tying a knot and making certain that it was not too tight. "It was a little careless. You could not wait inside as I wanted, I suppose… perhaps I should have expected that."

There was a hiss of breath that might have been a sound of amusement, and Shadow smiled despite himself, a little regretfully giving the injured shoulder a light pat.

"It's done."

He stood from the small bed; pausing to look from the window and chiding himself, for it was already a couple of hours into the night and the blue hedgehog should have been resting.

He had put it in a guest room now, since keeping it tied in his room was no longer necessary or helpful. But still, as he walked out, a part of him sulkily thought that he shouldn't have moved it, and longed to stay just a little longer in the room. It was with that thought that he realised it was the first time that he had felt truly relaxed with it, that he had spoken without a touch of wary awkwardness, and he had let down his guard without even considering it.

And with that, again came the feeling of hostile eyes upon him and he whirled around, eyes racing over the stone corridor, the moonbeams slanting through the windows…

Nothing.

Paranoid, he thought angrily, but that couldn't stop the fur prickling on the back of his neck and he cursed quietly, his good mood thoroughly spoilt by a crushing sense of foreboding.

Nothing. Just empty space and silent hallways. He was going insane.

The burning sensation that he was missing something had returned, even stronger than before, and he felt a quite uncharacteristic urge to yank open the guest room door and sleep on the floor there if need be. He shook his head, angry with himself and the tricks his mind seemed to be playing on him, and firmly turned and began walking back to his own room.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The mornings were as cold as ever. The new year was only days away, and winter hadn't even considered loosening its hold over the land.

The blue hedgehog wondered how the Lord – he wished he knew his name, it was becoming an annoyance – could stand to leave the thick curtains and wooden shutters half-open every night, letting the bitter winds rush in and out as they wished.

He shivered, and then quickly suppressed it, drawing his legs onto the bed and crossing them for added warmth. He hated the cold more and more, it made him sleepy and slow, or sick and confused. He hated everything about this place, why was he-

The black hedgehog let out a half-sigh and turned over, and the Wild's ears shot backwards eagerly. However, the Lord showed no more sign of waking than that, and he turned back to his thoughts.

Okay. He didn't hate everything. He could stand staying here until somehow this strange situation sorted itself out, especially now that he had been given his freedom.

And why, if that was true - a part of his mind reminded him - was he not in his own room? He hunched his shoulders forward a little, sulkily, and cast a half-glance over his shoulder at the sleeping hedgehog.

He was returning a favour. Hadn't the Lord assigned him to be a guard?

Feeble excuses. But he was not weak. Just because his shoulder was injured, that didn't mean he had to have continual care and comforts bestowed upon him, and he wanted to show the dark Lord that.

He wanted to be depended upon, though he could barely admit it. He wanted these people to see that he was just as strong – or stronger – than them, that his race shouldn't be beaten down, because they were equal to each other.

What gave people the right to try and control those that were 'different' anyway? Why was it even worth trying to show them that it was wrong?

He was working himself up into a temper again, irked by the teasing breeze from the window and the ache in his shoulder, and the unconscious guilty stir at being in this room without being given permission. The initial thought of showing the Lord that he could look after himself now had somehow twisted and turned itself into the underlying resentment that he had felt since he set foot on the cold soil of this land.

Pah. He had every right to do what he wanted!

The sheets rustled louder – the other hedgehog was waking up now, and suddenly he saw it in a different light. Coming in here, as though it were a rebellion, an alternative way of speaking since he couldn't - _look at me, I'm not going to compromise, I don't want to get along nicely, so back off._

The guilt trebled at the thought of hurting the dark hedgehog and melted through to a kind of vague panic, and he surely would have dashed from the room if the Lord hadn't spoken at that second.

"What?"

Shadow, suspecting the tag-end of a dream, blinked rapidly, but the hedgehog was still there, sitting at the end of his bed with its back almost to him and – surely he was mistaken – a faint flush in its cheeks.

His politeness hastily asserted itself, but he couldn't stop a confused note and a dragging in his words and voice. "Uh… do you need something?"

It said nothing – not surprising – but folded its arms, muscles so tense that it looked as though it were about to explode, and Shadow's mind struggled against the lingering daze of sleep to decipher what he had said wrong.

What could it possibly be embarrassed about (if that was even what it was)?

"Are you feeling well?" The Lord asked carefully, sitting up properly and pushing the covers aside to bring his mind to alertness properly and light upon what he had missed at a first glance.

That was too much for the blue hedgehog, and he bolted for the door, almost startling the slave entering there into dropping the breakfast tray.

"Wait—stop!"

A streaked hand caught the Wild's arm when he had only just made the hallway and he twisted in automatic panic, a flash of pain tearing over his shoulder at the movement. He let out a low hiss at that, and when he opened his eyes again the dark hands had turned him and caught his wrists, holding him still.

There was strength in that grip, only half-heartedly used in restraining him, and the anguished awkward flame in him heated in anger, in embarrassment – he fought against it, striving to shove the other hedgehog away.

Their strength was similar – perhaps equal, if he ignored the complaint from his shoulder, yet the other hedgehog was barely trying to stop him beyond matching his movements. Did the Lord think it didn't require any effort?

He wasn't a child! And he didn't want to be treated like one!

His eyes met the black hedgehog's ones reproachfully, and saw uncomprehending worry there. He made a lunge with his good arm, and almost brushed the other's side before the hand on his wrist forced him back.

"Stop it – you are going to hurt yourself!"

So? So! He was strong; he could recover from injuries, he wasn't made of glass!

He let out a low growl, his efforts frustrated by the grip the other had on him, and paused for a moment, chest heaving for breath against the anger that was closing his throat.

"What is it?" The Lord asked, "What is wrong? Why don't you tell me? Why won't you _speak!_"

He made one last attempt at a strike, putting all his remaining fire behind it, and felt the hand on his wrist fall back in surprise; the black hedgehog had relaxed his hold while speaking, and now it fell away.

He felt the gliding touch of fur shifting beneath the thin silk nightshirt in a fraction of an instant, registered that the blow had been made too hard, and then the other hedgehog had fallen back with an 'oof' of surprise, leaving him standing free.

For a moment he stood there, fist still outstretched, never having expected it to connect at all, let alone with such force. The black hedgehog was staring at him from the floor, eyes wide and stunned – a hand had gone to his side where the Wild had hit him, disbelievingly.

The blue hedgehog came back to his senses then, and realised there were tears of rage and pure frustration in his eyes, spilling over before he could attempt to control them. And in bitter shame, he turned and ran.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shadow sat at his desk, though he had no real reason to be doing so, staring blankly at the wooden surface. What had he done wrong this time? He thought that they were just starting to get along, and then the hedgehog had flipped again.

It was always doing that – one moment alive with passionate anger, the next quiet and subdued, even happy, until it became abruptly violent again.

So unpredictable, strange, foreign to him. Everything about it was, from the colour of its fur to the way it acted. He had long since lost any hope of deciphering what it was thinking.

It reacted to everything completely differently than he did – the feelings it chose to reveal it showed in entirety, with such strength that they became indecipherable from each other. When it chose to do something, it set about it without any further consideration.

Shadow was not like that. He considered everything, every option and outcome, tried to read every detail of a situation before cautiously setting out on a path, at any moment ready to turn back.

Maybe that was it. Maybe they were just entirely too different to ever get along.

He frowned, shutting his eyes and trying to visualize the world from that alien perspective, where every choice was definite until it was done, where instincts and heart must rule over caution.

It was faintly frightening to him – everything could wheel and change in the blink of an eye. Were all the hedgehog's people like that? In comparison, he, Shadow, must seem infuriatingly careful and subdued.

In the moments where he had let down his guard the most, he still hadn't given in completely to whatever emotion he was feeling. Whereas the hedgehog seemed to be doing that, all the time.

He had been fooled. When he had first seen it, it had been angry the entire time - it didn't give any sign that it could swing from one emotion to the other in a second, so he assumed that it was like hi in basic principle.

Shadow started attempting to go over all the events that had happened already and see them from the hedgehog's view, but hastily gave up. Even the act of doing that was something entirely in his own character, and so impossible to project the thoughts of another onto.

But at least he could pinpoint the differences now, and understand something of the frustration and confusion he kept seeing glimpses of in the Wild. In his land, everybody thought in ways that were at least based in the same way as his own – and for a mind that followed whatever emotion it felt almost blindly, how could it possibly comprehend that?

He opened his eyes again, leaning back a little and tapping the empty end of the quill on the desk. All that musing… that, the hedgehog never would have done. It would have settled on a way to interpret the situation and considered it no further.

Shadow sighed. Either way, this was going to even more difficult than he had thought.

At least the burning gaze seemed to have vanished now.


	13. Understanding the Way

Chaos: Heh heh, a mid-week update. That should throw people off. (shifty eyes) Anyway! After the shoddy mess of the last chapter, I put more care into this one, though it's a little short. And for anybody wanting action, that's still a chapter or two away, sorry. (sweatdrops)

Flower: Oh, and I wanted to say thanks to all the reviewers! Since the musings of earlier, lots more people review – and several review every chapter or read all my other stories and review them too. Thanks, everybody! And in particular to Ryuko, playstation14, Hawk's Soul and The Mouse of Anon, for such great support!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The sky was overcast, and the late afternoon was becoming darker – from where the blue hedgehog sat, he could hear a very distant rumble of thunder. A storm, far off. There were often storms on his homeland, and the thought of one was comforting in a way, yet chilling in another.

He was sitting at the top of the short flight of stone stairs that led down from the plateau of the main entrance to the Lord's stronghold, and took a deep breath of chill air, laden with the promise of rain to come.

The growing humidity was another sensation he was familiar with, and it mingled with the usual unwelcome chill so that he wasn't sure whether he was uncomfortable or not. Maybe he could grow used to this climate. It was winter, after all, and if he could put up with wearing layers of fabric then it might not be so bad. Summer might even be nice.

He let out a sigh. His thoughts were trying to distract him again. He knew he was leaving, so this kind of thought trail was useless, just a way of stopping him from feeling ashamed.

And he did feel ashamed. Ashamed to have been unable to control his feelings, ashamed of hitting the Lord, ashamed of not being able to make himself understood in the first place.

He lifted his gaze to the mass of dark clouds brewing in the distance. It was a little unsettling to watch, with the land grey and bare beneath, not lush and green as he was accustomed to.

He couldn't leave. Not by himself, not leaving the other hedgehog behind, not in this unknown territory. And yet he had to – he had _promised_.

He had to make the Lord understand his problem. But evidently he was useless at doing that too.

A crushing sense of gloom settled over him like dark clouds he was staring at, like an actual weight, and he rubbed the back of his neck as if it would lift it.

The action was oddly comforting to him, and it took a moment for him to work out why – it was akin to the sensation of wearing the collar. It was funny how fast that accessory had become important to him, when he hadn't had anything else.

After all, it wasn't as if he had to make a piece of leather understand what he was doing.

He put both hands around his neck to double the comfort, letting his elbows rest on his knees, and sighed. He didn't know what to do – go back inside? Pretend it had never happened?

Probably the streaked hedgehog was angry at him, and anyway, he didn't know how to face him now. He always reacted in odd ways – it left the Wild wrong-footed and he hated that, hated not being able to ask what the other meant, hated not understanding anything.

"You can leave if you desire to."

He almost jumped, forgetting that the Lord made almost no sound in moving even with the slight limp he had now acquired, and broke his gaze from the distant storm to look over his shoulder.

The black hedgehog was standing in the doorway, watching him with those eyes that always burned and almost never showed anything – yet there was no anger or bitterness in his face or stance, and the Wild was relieved at that, though once again he didn't understand it.

He shook his head, breaking the gaze, and turned back to the landscape. Now that he was listening for it, he heard the faint padding of footsteps as the Lord approached to sit next to him.

"A storm is coming." The somber voice murmured. The hedgehog kept his gaze forward, making no reaction, just listening to the words. He had almost forgotten now what his own voice sounded like, and wondered if he would even know how to speak if he tried – certainly it wouldn't be as smooth and careful as the black hedgehog's was. He doubted it had ever been like that.

"… You are unhappy here."

No emotion that he could extract, though he had never had much of a talent for that anyway, and he didn't move a muscle. Again he had no idea what to do, how to react, whether to agree or disagree, let alone how.

He went with his heart and right now, it was somewhere in his feet where he couldn't hear it.

"And yet you do not leave, nor rebel, and earlier-" A brief pause. "Well. You do not hate it. So then… are you waiting for something?"

The darker hedgehog was trying to find out why he was acting the way he was. He wasn't angry, or upset, or dismissive – he was trying to know, and the Wild felt his shoulders tense beyond his control.

The questioning eyes were upon him and he looked down, determined not to respond. Lately his reactions always seemed to twist themselves into doing the opposite of what he wanted, and this was far too important to ruin.

"Do you still have something to do?"

It was uncomfortably close and the Wild held his breath without realising, shutting his eyes. There was no way this could go right, nothing went right for him…

"Somewhere to go? Somebody to find?" The hedgehog pressed, with a faint hint of uncertainty.

It was like a hammer-blow, and let out his breath in a hiss, turning to look at the other. There was a different look there, worried and careful and not quite sure, and for one precious second he knew that they both felt the same way.

Then it was gone, and the unreadable expression had returned, crimson eyes simmering thoughtfully. The dark hedgehog put a hand on his shoulder, with barely any weight (though whether this was because of uncertainty or the injury the Wild couldn't tell).

"I want to help you," He said, "But you have to tell me how to do so."

There was a long moment of stillness. Then the Wild lifted a hand slowly, and pointed around his neck, mimed a rope leading to an invisible wall.

The black hedgehog watched, and he could see that the Lord didn't fully understand. But it was near enough.

"Very well."


	14. The End is Near

Chaos: Ah, it's been a while, hasn't it? Well, fear not, I've no intentions of stopping this story – however, I'm going to go on 'exam leave' from now, because it's a bit hard juggling everything. So! This is the last update you'll get for a while, huh? Not to mention the lack of fanart. Sorry! However, I'll still be on MSN if people want to scream at me. Oh – and the commentary is still going too (forgot about that in the last few chapters!). So. I actually like this chapter myself, and it has a leap forward that I've wanted for a long, long time. (laughs) Well, enjoy the chapter everybody! And the chapter title is misleading. We're only halfway through. (rubs hands together)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

No, Shadow didn't understand.

But he no longer cared. It was entirely plausible that he would never be able to properly decipher the hedgehog's thoughts, especially if it never spoke to him.

No matter how much trust they had, some things just couldn't be told without words. He had felt so close to hearing its voice then, on the steps, and yet still nothing.

Maybe it was mute. Maybe it just didn't want to speak to him. Maybe, maybe, maybe!

He wasn't used to being so understanding, trying so hard to do the right thing and find out what somebody else wanted – he felt horribly unsure of himself, missing the cold easy orders that he usually gave.

His fingers fumbled on the catch of the collar and he cursed under his breath, clenching his fists briefly to try and stop his fingers shaking. He just wasn't cut out for this.

He couldn't do it. It was too difficult, too strange, too unknown, like everything to do with the hedgehog.

It was easy to decide how to approach it in the solitude of his study. It was much harder when once again it did something he couldn't fathom the reasons for, and now it was so close he could hear its breathing at his shoulder, the warmth from its body.

His hands wouldn't be steady, and he felt a sudden and alarming urge to hit something, anything that would be definite and wouldn't require precision or thought or control.

It put a hand on his arm and he glanced down, trying to force his fingers to work the catch as he did so.

It was looking at him, eyes shining once again with that warmth – the frustration and anger had dimmed, replaced now by meager worry and confusion. The gaze had never been this close before.

Nobody ever looked at him like that.

Suddenly he felt trapped, claustrophobic, for no reason that he could find. The catch snapped into place and he almost leapt away, turning and grasping the bedpost with one hand as he stood, hard enough that it creaked faintly.

His heart was thundering and he put his free hand on his chest, glaring at nothing. He hadn't felt this way in a long, long time.

And it was a slave.

No… it wasn't. It was…

It certainly wasn't an 'it'.

He calmed down and scolded himself and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck to make the fur there stop prickling, warning him that the hedgehog was still watching.

He couldn't deny it. He had little experience of close contact with others, and it made him uncertain, which was something else that he was unfamiliar with. This wasn't the same as before, when the hedgehog had had a nightmare - in darkness which held anonymity, where emotion was already so charged that there was no time to feel self-conscious.

This, this was awkward. And he wasn't sure what to do about it, what the hedgehog wanted him to do about it.

Then again, that was starting to become a familiar feeling to him.

He let out a frustrated half-laugh. Perhaps he needed experience at not knowing what to do. He had almost forgotten his previous life, of legalities and routine and bitter arguments with other Lords over trivial matters.

They had left him alone since the banquet, which was unsurprising, except for the Eastern Lord. The orange-eyed Lord had a grudge against him, not just since the matter of the blue hedgehog – it spiraled back before that, to when Shadow had only just taken on his duties.

The Lord, as the closest Province, had visited to have a talk with him; a talk which, it turned out, was centered around the secret activities the Lords held, the conspiring, the ways to best avoid the suspicion of the Royal Guards, the best choices for wives and alliances with the others.

Shadow balked at that, disgusted. He had been brought up in the Royal Kingdom and held beliefs like the Western, South, and South-Western Provinces, which were close to the Kingdom and allied with them.

Since then he had learned not to bear argument against the other Lords, simply avoiding the matters they gathered for. He was not one of them, despite having inherited the best Province in the range, and the others simply regarded him as cold and thinking himself better than them.

But the Eastern Lord had never forgiven him for that first insult. At every opportunity he looked to undermine or hurt Shadow, but so far, the hedgehog had had no weaknesses to exploit.

So far.

Now, he realised, there was one sitting directly behind him.

One that the Lord was aware of, in a sense… but just how much? Though Shadow disliked admitting it, the other Lord wasn't stupid. Lords couldn't be. And he wouldn't just leave them alone if he knew.

With an uncomfortable lurch he remembered the sensation of being watched that he had felt in the previous days. He hoped he was wrong… but he couldn't hope too much.

A ball of frustration had formed in his stomach, bitter and upset. For the first time, he wished that the other Lords would just leave him alone.

The hedgehog was the first honest happiness that he had in a long time, but at the same time, it made being a Lord suddenly a lot more difficult than before. Harder to avoid suspicion and harder to keep up a cold shell.

His emotions were starting to master him. He couldn't let that happen - he was beginning to let himself get tired, and annoyed, and depressed. At this rate he would become reluctant to stay a Lord, something he had never even considered quitting from before.

Admitting defeat was not something he liked doing.

He looked over his shoulder at the hedgehog, which looked as though it… he… was about to say something but held back once again. As unbroken as ever. They had something in common there, both so stubborn.

But at the same time, there was a growing reluctance to continue, to face up time and again to probing questions and underhanded deceptions, to be alone and cold and unaware of how to get close to people any more.

Being a Lord, doing what he knew and being himself, and being with the hedgehog, which while a lot more unpredictable and equally as stressful was undoubtedly a more attractive prospect at times…

He couldn't do both. Things would get to a stage where it was impossible to do either. But even after choosing, what could he possibly do about it?

The blue Wild was watching; tense again, eyes voicing the question that he wouldn't – couldn't? - say aloud.

Shadow smiled. A smile that was becoming easier and more natural all the time.

For now… for just a while longer, he would let things stay as they were.

For now, he would enjoy the time left.


	15. To Stand at the Edge

Chaos: Exams are finished! Hoorah! On with the story… and it's the fifteenth chapter, and the 5000 hits mark -wow! That's amazing, everyone! Thankyou! And I only have a few sketches so far for the art. ; Exams have thrown me off entirely... Anyway, the big plot twist begins next chapter, and I've decided I don't care what anybody says, I'm just going to write it. (nods) So, everybody, go ahead and fear. (grin) Enjoy!

(commentary on request)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Wild was thinking about the future.

It wasn't something he did too often, preferring to think only of his next goal, not of all the different possibilities that could affect it. But that had been practically working against him lately, and he could no longer afford to make mistakes.

He had to think before making the next step. And this was the best time, at night when though he was tired, nothing would disturb him and the Lord was asleep; unable to confuse him further.

His situation was desperately unstable. On the surface it seemed fine, but it had a tendency to change without him noticing and as for the long-term… he couldn't see how it could work.

For one, he needed to explain where he had to go, what he had to do. Without speaking, he had stabbed himself in the foot. And even if he broke his promise on that point, there was a much bigger problem.

The black hedgehog had power. That power could easily get him a route out. But with that power, the Lord was confined to the stronghold, to his lands, and the Wild couldn't find the way on his own without talking to even more people. There was no way he would go that far.

As a final point… he had no clue why the older hedgehog was bothering. When he actually thought about it, it seemed ridiculous. Did the other have some motive he didn't know?

What if he was unable to help him? What if when he started speaking, the other lost interest? What if-

He banged his head against the bedpost. This was why he never thought about it. It was too damn confusing and depressing and it made his head hurt like hell.

He had no idea what to do. Again. With increasing frustration he reviewed his situation once again.

He had promised to get back home. He hated it here anyway. Well, almost, but-

Shut up, shut up. Okay. He wanted to leave. However, he needed local help of some kind to do that.

The black hedgehog was trying to help him. Other people were too unpredictable, untrustworthy. So. He needed to make the Lord see his problem.

But he had to speak for that. Perhaps he could break his promise on one count.

Then even so… the Lord might not be able to help him. He might not want to.

Back to square one. In that case he would escape. Find somebody else. _Get back home_.

He let out his breath. Things weren't quite that simple, and the temptation to give in was nagging ever louder, however much he compressed it and stuffed it into a dark corner of his mind.

But he was clear on one thing. He was going to have to try speaking to the Lord.

Anxiety. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he let out a low growl, hands lifting to the collar. He rarely felt nervous and he hated it, hated having so much weighing on the reactions of somebody else.

Later. Not yet. There was still time.

With a frown he rolled over onto his side, facing the steady breathing of the dark hedgehog asleep at the opposite end of the bed. He could go over and easily suffocate him, kill him, right now, yet the Lord left him unrestrained.

He trusted him. Either that, or he knew that the Wild would think that and wouldn't attack him, and he was actually only playing mind games to gain the blue hedgehog's trust, just another tactic to make him speak and cross that final barrier.

His head hurt. This kind of thought was only just within his mental capacity and it was horribly confusing.

So he shut his eyes and let the rhythm of the breathing lull him to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A new day, and the frost had lifted a little – but the storm clouds on the horizon were ever closer and darker.

Shadow leant on the study windowsill, watching the blurred haze beneath the clouds that marked the initial rain, and the way the dark shape billowed and moved. It was moving fast. At this rate, he estimated, it would hit by the next day…

"This slave would speak to the Lord."

He sighed under his breath, and then turned from the window and fresh air.

"Yes?"

"There is mail for the Lord." The slave said, bowing with eyes fixed upon the floor and holding out a letter. The envelope was thick and Shadow blinked in surprise, taking it slowly as though it would bite him.

"Thank you." He said absently, turning towards the desk, and then his mind caught up and he froze in time to hear the slave's intake of breath.

"L-lord… there is no need for… that is… I, uh…"

He scowled at the wall, not really listening to the frightened babbling. Why had he said that? It was inappropriate; slaves were hardly worth consideration, and as it stood he was not in the way of thanking anybody.

"Send me a runner for the reply." He said coldly, pointing at the door, and it slammed almost before he had finished speaking. The slave had probably thought he was going out of his mind… or something worse.

He shook his head and sat down, but any thoughts about his blunder immediately fled when he read the return address on the reverse of the heavy envelope.

It was from the Eastern Province.


	16. And Fall

Chaos: The last chapter ended briefly, I know. But it's my story, nya nya nya. Or rather, this next installment is quite long and I preferred to break before it than midway through. We're back onto the weekend schedule! Alright!

I also see that interest in this story is starting to decline, if hits and comments mean anything. This makes me sad. This does not make me stop. You'll have to try harder than that! (laughs)

Forgive me. I need sleep. The decline is probably due to the exam break. Anyway, this chapter is a very important one and quite long, so I'll leave you to enjoy it. (grin)

(commentary on request)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shadow's heart leapt into his throat and he swallowed heavily, slowly moving to the desk and slowly sitting, slowly tearing the envelope open with the thin blade of the letter-opener.

If he took this slowly and calmly, he would not lose his rationale. He had come thus far and this would be just another step to take.

He could tell himself this, but it could not stop the fluttering in his chest, for it was never something simple or easy – and there were too many loose ends and something had to tie them together.

He slid the folded paper from inside, several sheets of it and he recognised the yellow tinge on the first one; an official document.

It was never something simple.

Deep breath. The door creaked warningly as the runner entered, and he straightened. He would not err in his behaviour again – he was a Lord and he would not react.

He unfolded the paper.

"What does the Eastern Province want this time?" He asked aloud as he scanned the page, making it a normal event, an everyday occurrence, "This is…"

He could not stop himself – he gagged and quickly put a hand to his mouth.

An ownership paper. For the blue hedgehog, and entitling him to the Eastern Lord. Shadow's strongest argument, that the hedgehog had escaped and therefore was free property, was unraveled.

He should have seen this one coming. The Wild had been in the other Lord's possession for a week, or thereabouts – but he had dismissed the thought. Why would the snooty Eastern Lord sign for a slave that he, embarrassingly, could not break? (And he must have found that out quickly).

"My Lord?" The runner asked from behind, spooked by the silence and stillness of the dark hedgehog.

With an effort Shadow put down the yellowed paper and picked up the next.

This was hardly a shock, but much more confusing. It was a copy of a notice, and one that he recognised – sent to each Lord at six month intervals, it detailed the events and meetings that were to take place between them, though not the location or date, for the Lords were too careful for that.

Shadow could do nothing about it, chose not to anyway – the only reason the thing was still sent to him was probably an insult or a continual reminder that he could still become one of them. He had skimmed the list and thrown it out almost immediately. It was a routine.

Halfway down, one of the entries was circled – the Spring Tournament.

The two Tournaments, Spring and Autumn, were very popular. Shadow half-suspected that a couple of the Lords spent more of their time preparing for them than on their actual duties.

They were bloodthirsty events. Each Lord would invite their own entourage of supporters (and often some rebels from the Royal Kingdom would join in) along with one or two representing competitors – slaves that were specially trained to fight and kill.

Of course, that was not exciting enough. Wild beasts were included, often monsters caught in the foreign lands overseas or even bred for the purpose; the slave that got to the highest stage before dying was declared the 'winner', and the owning Lord received the glory.

Shadow had only gone once, soon after becoming a Lord, when he was still making allowances and trying to be fair.

He had never gone again.

But why was it ringed? What was the significance?

The emblem at the top of the letter suddenly caught his eye – a beast of some kind, embracing the Provincial crest, with glaring eyes and bared fangs… it looked vaguely like-

_The wolf_.

A dreadful connection was suddenly made in his mind and he swore loudly. Why hadn't he seen it sooner, the moment he unfolded the event notice? It was almost obvious, and he knew now what the third piece of paper would be.

"L-Lord Shadow!"

He half-jumped. He had forgotten the slave, waiting for the reply – and he had acted inappropriately again. Well, this time, he couldn't blame himself.

"Do not use my name so lightly." He said through his teeth, slamming the notice back onto the desk much more firmly than was necessary. "And get out."

The runner needed no second warning. It was gone even faster than the previous slave.

Shadow returned his attention to the third and final letter. He could worry about the slaves later… or not at all, if the events rapidly playing out inside his head would come to pass.

He felt sick.

The letter was handwritten with ink – from the Eastern Lord personally. He didn't need to read it. It would most likely outline what he had just realised in a much more painful way.

'_Lord Shadow,_

_You are withholding my property, the blue hedgehog slave. Due to the gracious assistance of the Central Guild, I now have evidence of this at my disposal.'_

The Central Guild – also known as the Thieves' Guild behind the royal guards' backs, a league of shadowy people willing to commit any deception for the right pay.

A spy. Of course. The watching eyes and flitting shadows, and he shook his head angrily. He should have seen it. Too distracted, too convinced that it was over, and letting down his guard for more than just the Wild.

'_The Tournament begins in four days and my entrant is by now unprepared. However, I am willing to work this out quietly, for now we both have our little… discretions from the law.'_

Shadow had plenty, if the spy had been noting his behaviour, and it was hard to avoid now.

The Eastern Lord had little fault in comparison, but of course involving the Royal Military would inevitably bring up the Tournament, and they would jump at the chance to catch one of the untrustworthy Lords.

'_Bring the blue slave to the Central Province by the evening of the new year day, and we will speak no more of this. If not… I am sure you can imagine the consequences.'_

And with a flourished signature the letter finished, and Shadow could almost see the self-satisfied smirk behind it. Though the tournament entry must have been genuine – the wolf, the injuries, the almost feral actions of the hedgehog when he had first recovered – the Lord knew exactly what the hedgehog meant to him. He must be delighted.

Shadow's heart was now going at a normal pace, but his mind was picking up speed. It would take a day to leave and reach the Centre. That left him one day. Just one day to make his choice. Lose the Wild, or lose everything.

His thoughts raced, almost feverishly. He couldn't lose the blue hedgehog. He couldn't. It would destroy him. But both choices led the same way.

Of course, there were more choices than that, lying under the surface, following similar paths but not quite the same.

They all led to his destruction, in one way or another.

But he knew easily now which one he would choose.

The day he needed not to think, but to pack.

He had lost his rationale.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The blue hedgehog hugged the wall, feeling the smooth wooden paneling of the study wall sliding treacherously under his fingers. He was used to actual trees. But there was no time for that kind of thought now and he perked his ears up carefully.

The Lord's voice was faint through the crack of the doorframe, but he could still make out the words if he was close – close enough for his heart to pound with the threat of being caught, though it was only respect for the other's privacy that did it now.

"What does the Eastern Province want now? This is-"

A long pause.

"My Lord?" The slave inside asked uncertainly.

It was met with a very rude word and the sound of papers being slammed onto the desk and the hedgehog almost smirked, pleased to hear at least some indication that the Lord could lose his temper.

"L-lord Shadow!"

The Wild jerked upright.

"Do not use my name so lightly." The dark hedgehog growled coldly in reply. "And get out."

The door was hastily shoved open and the hedgehog bounded away, too excited to be careful now. When he was several corridors away he paused, turning the words over in his head.

Shadow. Shaa-dow. An appropriate name, though he hadn't recognised it at first; it was pronounced oddly, with the 'a' drawn out into an 'ar' sound. It would sound better the way his people said it.

His heart was still thundering, but with a new thought. He looked around, listening carefully. Nothing.

Alert all the time to any approach, he softly cleared his throat and began to speak.


	17. And be Left Behind

Chaos: Ow… it's too late, my brain is dead. Anyway, it looks like the regular updating is all shot to hell, yay! This time I had a break because my ability to write simply declined. This happens every so often, and during it I draw stuff instead, which is obvious over on my DA account! (sweatdrops) So anyway, thanks for being so patient everyone, and especially Narsi. It's the moment everybody's been waiting for…

(commentary no longer available due to lack of request)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

His voice emerged with difficulty, sounded suddenly and impossibly loud to his ears, and he stopped immediately with heart thundering. He had almost forgotten the sensation.

Another attempt, and this time it was easier, and thesound even resembled a word. Even so, it sounded strange, not quite right, and it took him a long moment to work out why.

He spoke differently. He was now used to the dialect of this northern land, used to hearing it, almost expected to hear it – but in his memory his voice had its own accent… though he couldn't define it.

What he hadn't expected was a mixture of both.

He shaped a few more words, though under his breath because they still seemed loud, trying to get used to it. He was right. It had definitely changed, unless his memory was wrong.

He slid down the wall, suddenly feeling almost light-headed, with the sensation that his sense of self was flying out of reach without his even noticing.

A hiss of swift footsteps and he rose from the reverie, hastily shutting his mouth as though it would start speaking without his command now that he had finally allowed it.

The Lord – Shah-dow, Shar-dow, and he resolved to try it and see which actually sounded better – swept past without even looking at him.

The Wild's fur was suddenly prickling and he looked down the hallway, following the hedgehog with his gaze; as he turned the corner, the blue hedgehog caught a glimpse of his face.

It was as blank as ever, but his eyes (was he imagining it?) seemed almost to be burning, with no attempt to subdue it – as strong a glare as he had ever used, which was an unusual thing to see, focused on nothing.

Desperation?

The blue hedgehog stared at the spot where Shadow had been and, for the first time, wondered what was going on without his knowledge.

His fur was still prickling, and it wasn't because of the growing humidity before the storm hit.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Suddenly things were moving, and the castle was alive with activity – slaves hurrying in every direction, gathering things up or packing them away under the Lord's direction, and Shadow never seemed to stay in one place.

After two hours the hedgehog had had all he could take and sought out Shadow's room, which was relatively peaceful and as of yet undisturbed. He unconsciously sat below the metal ring, thinking.

Something was happening, or going to happen, some big change and he couldn't stand not knowing what it was. He wanted things to stay as they were, safe and relatively secure, and he could feeling his stomach knotting nervously at the sounds of things being moved below.

It wasn't until several slaves brought in a bag and began packing a few things into it almost aimlessly, unsure what the Lord wanted, that he truly understood the situation.

Shadow was leaving.

His heart was going fast enough already, and now it seemed in danger of exploding. Why? Where? It wasn't something normal, he could tell by the almost tangible tension – something different.

No, there was some big shift occurring that he knew nothing about, and he wasn't a part of it.

But what about him? What was he supposed to do?

A rush of uncertainty flooded him. Would Shadow take him too? There had been no sign so far, and the dark hedgehog was an enigmatic as ever to him. But surely he hadn't imagined – brief moments, glimpses, connections between them?

Surely he wouldn't be left behind?

He forced himself to calm down. There was some rational explanation, if he was indeed going to be left here alone – it would only be for a day or two, some private business between Lords or whatever they did, nothing he could go to.

The quiet sound of familiar footsteps, hurrying, that would have been lost beneath the sounds of the slaves if his ears had not become so attuned to it, and his attention snapped to the door.

Shadow entered, gaze spinning over the slaves briefly and nodding for them to continue before inevitably landing on the Wild.

The blue hedgehog's expression had changed, though not to an inexperienced eye. The eyes glared as usual, empty of malice but with something else… a kind of accusatory worry.

He might as well have said it aloud. _What's going on?_

Shadow stared at him, heart thumping, and didn't know how to answer. A kind of tearing need had developed in his chest, and if he slowed down for a second it would destroy him.

He couldn't afford to reconsider or look back, or be tempted.

The Wild's expression was changing as Shadow watched, and he realised too late that he must be letting his own feelings show. He made his face blank, but now the blue hedgehog was looking at him differently.

He had seen a glimpse or a sign in Shadow's eyes, or something that had somehow told him – things were about to end.

Shadow couldn't slow down, couldn't think. His feet itched to be away.

Yet there was one realization that made itself apparent to him, and he made himself cross the floor to the hedgehog's side. He smiled reassuringly even as he crouched and one hand dived into the coat he was wearing, the pockets of which he had jammed with the first items that came under his hands.

A length of rope. Some part of him had prepared even while the rest panicked, for he could see that the Wild wasn't going to let him leave.

He put his gloved hands to the collar and the hedgehog's hands lifted as though to stop him, but stopped short. Their eyes were still locked, the emerald-green ones wide with shock and trapped by it, or by the silent _trust me _that Shadow's were giving.

A moment and it was done – he sharply broke the gaze, stood and with a flick of fingers secured the other end of the rope to the worn hook. Quickly, before the hedgehog could realise what he had done, he spun to leave.

His hand was on the door handle when it happened.

"Don't go."


	18. Speech and Separation

Chaos: Ahh... the biggest moment. It's taken seventy pages to get here and I've loved every moment of it. (grins) But this is only perhaps two thirds of the way through the story. This also marks the introduction of another side character. I note that the story focuses on the two hedgehogs - other main characters appear, but they're only on the side. Sorry, fans! Now, however, I'll leave you all to read, because I know how long everybody's waited. I just hope you're not disappointed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It couldn't be. Not now. He must be imagining it.

Slowly Shadow turned, one hand still on the door and so close to escape.

"Pardon?" He murmured, and it was though another unfamiliar voice had uttered it – one faint with shock and barely audible.

The other hedgehog was on his feet, eyes burning somehow brighter than any time before… though they might have just seemed that way because the Wild had paled slightly, looking as stunned as Shadow for a second.

Then he stood straighter and his expression became determined. "Don't go."

The room seemed to lurch. A bomb had gone off inside Shadow's chest, because now the shock was gone and his mind had caught up and he knew that this changed absolutely nothing.

"I have to." He replied. His voice sounded normal once again but the scene felt only more surreal, and the need to get out was picking up quickly.

The hedgehog bared his teeth, swiftly hiding another expression that Shadow saw for only an instant – sad and desperate and angry.

"Then come back!"

The voice, so strange and unfamiliar; almost foreign, shockingly strong with emotion and each word burned him. It fitted the blue hedgehog perfectly.

He couldn't stop. He had to get out now and go, because the voice had held an almost pleading note that was completely wrong for it. It made a part of him wish to stay if that would just make it change tone…

He must have shaken his head for something in the hedgehog's green eyes darkened, switching off, and in that moment he looked as broken as all the others.

"Please."

Too much. Before he knew what he was doing he had murmured goodbye - or something equally pathetic - and slammed the door behind him, moving swiftly for the ground floor and the carriage waiting.

He couldn't look back.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The carriage made good time – the horses, spooked by the humidity and black clouds, almost galloped across the still half-frozen ground. To Shadow, everything outside the window appeared grey, waiting. He drew the curtain across and sat in darkness.

For a while he was able to listen to the steady thump of the wheels over the uneven ground, but now his thoughts were catching up to him.

_What have you done?_

This was the best option, or at least he had thought so. The hedgehog would stand at least a slight chance back in the castle – the tournament would have been suicide for it.

Suicide for me instead, Shadow thought grimly. But he knew more about the proceedings, surely he had a better chance… and if he did manage to break the deal or settle it another way, he would still easily be able to return…?

Yes, this was better. If all his choices led to some kind of misery or death, this was the best one to take. He would be fighting, at any rate. Maybe he could succeed. Maybe he would win the eastern Lord's little bet. Maybe…

He had to believe that, at the least.

With a rattle the carriage bumped onto cobblestones and he pulled the curtain open. Mid-afternoon, only a few hours left. But they were hours of uncertainty with the desire to turn and go back, declare war if need be, take the blue hedgehog and run away, where to? Stupid, irrational decisions.

Hours of them ahead, and he wished the carriage had arrived in the evening instead. With a hissing sigh between gritted teeth, he waited for the door to be held open and descended into the streets of the grey town.

He had hardly turned one corner, walking randomly if only to kid himself that he was going somewhere, when a dark shape sidled out of an alley.

"Been a while! I was starting to feel neglected, Shadow."

"… Rouge." He clarified, turning to her. The pale bat was scantily dressed as always, despite the cold weather, and winked at him before stepping into the street.

"One and the same. But so long and no letter, huh? What's the big idea? You make me think you're seeing other women!"

He stared at her. "What-"

"Joke, Shadow!" She nudged him and he flinched. "What's up with you? I don't see you in two years and now you're a zombie?"

His mind snapped out of it suddenly and he noticed her properly. Rouge, leader of the Thieves' Guild, a friend of his when he had been in training and snuck out to the town as often as possible.

Since he had become a proper Lord, he hadn't had the time nor the occasion to even think about her.

"Ah, sorry. My mind was on other things." He said, looking her up and down again. She had hardly changed. More jewelry, of course, and it was no longer cheap. And she still tried to flirt with him, and he still wasn't whether she was serious or not.

"Sorry?" She said, laughed and he flinched again at the unfamiliar sound. "You know how to make a woman feel special. Aren't you supposed to be some big important Lord?"

He sniffed, didn't bother reprimanding himself, and looked to the side in mock-slyness. "Perhaps I'm trying to disguise myself among the citizens?"

She grinned. "That's more like it. Ah, but I heard about your father. Sorry."

He half-shrugged under his cloak. Another person he hadn't had the time to remember, but he hadn't wanted to anyway. "It's nothing."

"So, what's the likes of you doing here? The town's full of rumours and I have ears everywhere. Two Lords in the Province at once and nobody knows what's happening? Sounds big."

He remembered, and it hurt.

Rouge looked at him differently, dropping the furtive glances and seductive charms.

"Shadow…? What's wrong?"

He told her, and she laughed for a full five minutes before realising he was serious. "You're crazy. That's… suicide! For a slave? Are you nuts? Are you mad? Are-"

"Rouge, please. It's the best thing to do."

"What, killing yourself? Just give him the damn slave and forget it!" She exclaimed. She didn't understand. How could she? He barely did.

"I can't." He thought of shining blue fur and emerald eyes and that voice, that terrible and wonderful voice, and barely stopped his ears from folding.

She stared at him, and he thought she looked sad.

"You've changed."

A long silence. Neither one said anything, or needed to. He wondered just how much she thought of him.

"Fine. Throw your life away for some rat." She said bitterly at last, turning and stalking away and vanishing in the alleys within seconds. She could walk the shadows even more easily than he could.

He stared after her, aching, until the Eastern Lord stopped beside him.

"Greetings."


	19. Hitting the Floor

Chaos: I am. So. Tired. (flops onto the desk) I really shouldn't go into writing spazzes on this thing... it kills me. Incidentally! This story is now my longest by word count - two thousand more than Silver Lining... hah! Take that, story that I wrote! (Wait... dammit!) - and has 40 times as many hits as my average hitcount (over eight thousand, try that for making you paranoid about story quality, ha ha). Which is good! Because I hate most of my other stories! And, for some bizarre reason, still like this one!

Really. I'm actually so pleased with this story I could hug someone. (sweatdrops) Yes. I need sleep. Ignore me. I was giggling insanely while writing the Shadow the Hedgehog game reference. Cookies to those who spot it... it's pretty obvious, though.

Over eight thousand... hell... I should really put something more interesting and a little more productive in this space... ha ha... (looks nervously at the readers tapping their feet and waiting for her to shut up)... anyway, enjoy!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Thunder crashed and something woke up inside the blue hedgehog.

_About time_, he thought vaguely, recognizing the spark of feeling – anger and betrayal and bitter sadness. But mostly anger. He twitched his fingers from where his hand lay on the floor, and they were stiff.

How long had he been slumped here against the wall, not believing, not thinking, willing for defeat? But it wouldn't come. It never did.

And goddamn it that pissed him off.

For some reason he was wet, and he puzzled over that until the wind changed direction, sending the window shutters banging crazily – the catch must have been only half-closed or simply torn away – and rain gusted into the room.

It soaked him and this time he leapt from it, feeling the jerk of the rope, with eyes blazing and he spat and hissed as though he were a wildcat and not a hedgehog.

He couldn't remember being so angry, and raged mindlessly for a short while until recollection came.

Shadow was a jerk; a snobbish, haughty jerk, he decided firmly, and wanted to hit something. His muscles itched at the sudden action, but adrenaline extinguished the numb stiffness and he was more alive than he had been for a long time.

What was he going to do now? He snarled and gave the rope a savage tug, only succeeding in burning his hands. That type of thinking could go to hell as far as he was concerned… he'd do whatever he damn well wanted!

In that moment his uncertainty meant nothing, his promise meant nothing, Shadow meant nothing. All that mattered was to get out, get away, run run run. Go home, fulfill the promise if it was convenient, whatever.

The rope pulled him back, slowed him down, and he hated it.

Pain. There was pain beneath the anger's shield, and he hated that too. Searing flash of lightning and a deafening roll of thunder and the rain drummed down harder.

He was going mad. Trapped, he was trapped, he realised, and for so long now that he was forgetting how it felt to relax and enjoy anything.

And it made him so angry.

Lightning. His thoughts scattered and he went briefly wild, and the rope was shredded and his hands too – blood, and it was worse, and he wasn't in the room, he was far away.

Home. But a home destroyed.

Lush moonlit grass under his hands and he was tearing at it for a purchase, anything that would stop him being dragged back to the chains and screams of the slave camp, and a promise made in the dark…

He howled and it became a memory again, a memory that he suppressed and would not relive, and he was in Shadow's room and it was real. But it looked different now, the furniture torn and dented and the bedspread ripped to shreds and blood, blood.

He yanked on the door with all his strength and kicked it, attacked it and only left scattered quills embedded in the wood. It was firmly locked, by slaves that heard his madness and feared him.

No escape. Never.

Memories rose again, of sobbing and blood and chains and his heart consumed by cold fire. No. He couldn't, wouldn't see it.

He flew to the open window and leapt into the storm.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The storm had started soon after Shadow had retreated to the hotel that his eastern counterpart was staying in. The other had raised an eyebrow at the obvious absence of the blue hedgehog, but didn't say anything until they had a chance to sit… which Shadow grudgingly admired, and then hated himself for it.

Outside the shuttered window the rain thundered, a staccato beat that he managed to stop his heart from taking up.

"So." The other Lord said, crossing his legs. He was still wearing the purple cloak, seemed reluctant to ever remove it, something Shadow had wondered many times over. "I take it that you have come to negotiate."

"That is correct." He replied, not breaking the eye contact, and then continued before the Lord could interrupt and try to get in a jibe. "Your terms were to receive the hedgehog as a contestant for the tournament, and end our mutual disagreements there."

The Lord's eyes slid to the side, an orange gleam, and Shadow suspected that talking of the matter so openly made him uncomfortable. Good, and he resolved to bring the subject up as much as possible.

Maybe a passing slave would hear, word would spread, the Royal Guard would interfere in time to bring the other Lords down with him… a foolish wish, but it helped to distract the crushing despair from consuming him.

"Yes." Reluctantly hissed, and the eyes fixated back on him.

"Then I am to presume that you consider it a worthy fighter."

No reply this time, and he continued regardless. Every word threatened to make his voice tremble with uncertainty. He continued entertaining himself in his mind, imagining strangling the other Lord with his stupid purple cloak and finding it disturbingly easy, and a welcome trade-off for his façade of control.

"In that case, I conclude that a better contestant would be of more value to you."

A bored expression in the shadow the hood of the cloak cast. The Lord wouldn't easily be robbed of his little torturous game. "For example…?" He prompted.

Shadow took a deep breath – _distraction, distraction, imagine what you'd use if you attacked him right now…_ - and sealed his doom.

"Me."

The Lord started laughing. Shadow maintained his glare – _table? Too heavy. Bare hands? I'd rather not. Letter-opener? Ooh… but could I reach it before he realised? - _until the other had regained control.

"You are a foolish excuse for a Lord." Was the eventual statement, a nastily amused grin crossing the other's features.

"I believe that I go by different standards than those that you seek." Shadow muttered under his breath. If the eastern Lord heard, he did not react.

"But you must be jesting." He said, arching an eyebrow perfectly. "To truly mean such a suggestion would be suicide." Rouge's voice echoed in Shadow's mind briefly, delivering a punch of despair to his stomach. "And the terms are unbalanced. It would not be worth the risk on my part."

Shadow swallowed. He had anticipated this.

"Then," He said, and his voice was still steady and he thanked whatever god was granting him this tiny favour after so many punishments, "It is merely a case of what we are willing to bet."

Interest dawned briefly in orange eyes. "And what do you suggest?"

Here was his opening. "I enter as your contestant, under disguise. If I should succeed in the tournament, you and your allies will cease your meddling," A frown that he may even have interpreted as a pout had it been a far-from-Lordly thing to do, "in my affairs henceforth. And that includes the blue hedgehog, which you will sign ownership of over to me."

"And if you should not win?" The other asked, and it was obvious from his tone that this _would_ be the outcome. And Shadow sadly agreed with that before pulling his mind from the edge and focusing on the letter-opener again.

"If I should not win." He said. "Then I should die. And you would receive everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything." He repeated. Nobody could refuse that, when the tournament was certain death anyway.

There was a deep silence. "And all this for a slave." The Lord murmured thoughtfully, as if undecidedly whether to say it aloud or not, and again he heard Rouge's words. "Why?"

Again. The same opinion, the same thoughts, the same beliefs. And this time his pride would not suffer the ignorance and danced free, so that the words rose in his throat and almost tumbled over each other in his haste to say them before he stopped himself.

Thoughts that needed to be said, and he cared not about the company for one brief moment.

"Because I have allowed myself the-" _weakness _"… privilege… of caring. Because I will live with my-" _mistakes _"… choices. And I will not be led in my actions by people who will not understand. If it happens to be a slave that is the one I care about, then so be it; this is who I am."

The silence was deeper and he felt empty, as if he had just pulled out his soul and thrown it at the enemy's feet. But also was the sensation that he had just hit the bottom, and nothing could lower him now.

"Then you are not a Lord."

Silent words underneath it that seemed to be saying _but you could have been a great one_ and made him sick, for that was true. Without this… weakness, he could have been one of them. With that same determination redirected, he could have been better than them.

But he had not been shaped that way. And the realization dawned that no, he was not a Lord. He had spent years getting the practises and motions right, building his shell meticulously until he even convinced himself that he was as cold as the rest of them.

But…

On the other Lord's face, sullen anger was replaced by a chilling smirk. "And I accept your terms. Then this conversation is over."

"Yes. It is." Shadow agreed, and stood, and suddenly the relief and the need to get out returned from the void – and somehow he kept his feet moving normally, taking him away.

The deal was set. He had chosen the terms and the other Lord had acquiesced to them. He had succeeded for once and his tired heart lifted a fraction at that. _I win._

And he considered that it was most probably the most unsatisfying victory he had ever known.


	20. A New Path

Chaos: I've gone through a spell of a lack of inspiration and, combined with the large amount of schoolwork that I have had and am continuing to have to do, I simply haven't had the time to work on this story. I still don't have the time, which is why this has been written so very slowly anyway – I'm not sure when you can expect the next chapter… sorry for the delays, but I'm not being paid for this. Life does interfere every so often.

In the meanwhile, it's probably obvious that I'm not in a wonderful mood. I've been going through a stressful time, and that doesn't help when you're trying to write, either. I'm paranoid enough about it as it is without added depression.

On this chapter: Should I start doing a mini-section like this? The last chapter was so dark and sad. This one is about coping with that - getting up and carrying on, hard as it may be. Because life doesn't stop when you do, which may be miserable or wonderful... I'm not sure.

At any rate… non-story content ends here. Hopefully I'll see you on a lighter note for the next chapter, whenever it may be? And please don't review just saying 'omg would you write already?!'… it doesn't help me much.

Oh, and twentieth chapter – and almost 10k hits. That really does make me feel better. Thanks!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Shadow."

Some vague unknown voice, not quite close enough to make out but he couldn't mistake that particular word. It was like a sunbeam hitting him directly in the face.

It woke him up. And he didn't like it.

For one, his mind was telling him that something horrible had happened, but he was still trapped in drowsiness and couldn't quite remember what it was. That was annoying.

Also, he was soaked and cold and something was hurting - it wasn't a good combination, and it was tempting to turn over and go back to sleep for a while...

Wait. No. There was the memory!

His heart took a sickening plunge, but when he didn't immediately die his get-up-and-go got up and went. It wasn't so bad, was it? So Shadow had gone somewhere. Big deal.

He'd just have to follow him and carefully explain with fists or teeth why he was such a jerk and a creep and a faker (he was nothing like the other Lords, unless the Wild was missing something) and a moron and… and…

Oh, whatever. He could plan it while he was searching.

He recalled what had woken him in the first place and his ears twitched in curiosity, but the speakers had moved out of his range of hearing. Annoyed, for that could have been a vital clue – but then again, how rare was the word – he lifted his head and looked around.

He was in some kind of alleyway between buildings… houses? It was abandoned save for himself, but more voices were drifting by and he realised that there must be a larger street on the other side of the walls.

A grey daylight filled the area, illuminating grey buildings and grey cobblestones, a thin sliver of grey sky with grey clouds. Even his fur seemed to have dulled, carrying a light layer of dew that soaked up the dull morning.

Morning? It wasn't supposed to be morning. How had he even gotten here?

Well, he knew. But he hastily decided not to think about that, lest it brought another spell of madness in its wake – instead he started to get up to trail after that first word, but the act of placing one hand on the ground for balance sent him hissing back to the floor.

He looked at his hands.

They were a mess. The sharp nails were broken and splintered, fingertips bruised and trails of dried blood setting the short fur on the back of his hand and fingers into ugly clumps. The motion of wriggling his fingers sent needles of pain up his spine.

He couldn't ignore that. The risk of infection was too great, especially now that he was out in the open again, and this land seemed determined to poison him.

With a sigh and a great effort, he pushed the thoughts of Shadow and plans born from desperation to the back of his mind, and stood up. His head did not spin, his muscles did not ache, and he shook himself quickly to clear the dew before setting off carefully down the alley.

Behind and above him, Rouge watched the brighter shade of blue appear as the water droplets were sent flying, and catalogued it alongside the effect Shadow's name had had.

She was sure now, and her heart burned with malice as she followed, silently.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You may purchase one slave to travel with you and act as fighting partner if you wish."

Shadow's nose twitched in immediate aversion as he entered the gloom of the Slaver's tent. He disliked this little offer; choosing a new slave, which would probably be half-Wild if it were to serve as any help to him in the Tournament, one that might decide to turn on him at any moment?

He didn't want another Slave. He wanted his blue Wild.

As that sad thought struck him he suppressed it viciously. He was doing this for the sake of the other, and there was no use pining for it now. If he made himself think coldly and rationally about his situation, he might actually survive.

The stink of the tent had sharpened; he was entering the display cages, and the scent of blood, sweat and filth practically hung on the air – he unconsciously lifted a cloak-covered arm to shield himself from it.

"What can I do for you, My Lord?" Came the wheedling voice hopefully, as the Slaver approached him, carrying a heavy whip.

"I am seeking," Shadow said evenly, "A slave to act as a bodyguard. What do you have?"

"Right this way." The Slaver moved off along the rows of cages and he followed, blotting out his unease at the burning eyes from some of the cages they passed.

He was increasingly aware of a sense of acute discomfort, one which he had not experienced in a slave tent before, and his brows furrowed.

"Here." There was a click as a lock was undone, quickly followed by the crack of the whip and a sharp cry of surprise. A creature, a fox, was yanked forth from the gloom of the cage, where it sat snarling at the end of the chain, throwing an angry glare at Shadow.

The whip cracked again, along with a hissed rebuttal, and the sad specimen flinched and reluctantly dropped its eyes.

Shadow had flinched too, rapidly blinking in horror. For it was not a beaten fox sitting before him, but his fiery hedgehog – that same defiance and burning green glare, challenging him.

He paled and shook his head, and the tent came back into focus. The Slaver had stopped mid-word of an explanation about how suitable this slave was, and was watching him in concern.

The fox-slave had its eyes on the floor… until it glanced up and smirked, quite derisively, at him.

The Slaver somehow noticed this immediately, maybe saw the flare of shock in Shadow's eyes, for he set about beating the hapless creature savagely. Shadow felt a surge of nausea in his throat that made no sense whatsoever at the sight.

Almost frantically trying to clear his mind, he focused on the appearance and possible merits of the slave. However, try as he might, the only colour he could pick up was blue, and he rubbed his eyes.

It was brown. He was certain. But even as he decided that it let out a growl of pain, so similar to the ones uttered by his hedgehog that the world nearly spun. Why was he just standing here, watching it get abused?

Why did he care?! It was only a slave!

The whip slashed again, and the fox hid its face, would have lost its eyes if it hadn't reacted so quickly. Eyes which seemed now to be vibrant green, not the muddy brown they had been previously.

Shadow turned and ran.


	21. Following Loss

Chaos: Happy new year…! So here's the next chapter at last. Mind you, I've not slept tonight so I may take it down in disgust when I'm in a more rational mind… for now, it looks good to me. I don't know. I think I'm rambling…

Over 10k hits now, I am delighted and terrified to say. I really must do something commemorative! Any suggestions? I know you're out there. I can hear you all breathing…

On this chapter: It's not so dark, longer than normal, and furthers the plot, so it's an important one. I hope I've done it justice!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The obvious impossibility of the task – finding Shadow, in an unknown location, without speaking, without clues – lurked in the Wild's mind, but he suppressed it. He was good at that.

Fast. Not just in reality but in his mind too, able to evade darker thoughts, memories, and stay positive and once upon a time, happy. But only so long as he never slowed down.

He had been walking about five minutes and was crossing a disused back square when the shadows shifted.

"So you're Shadow's pet."

He jumped and spun towards the sound, and saw nothing. He growled warningly.

"Are you happy with your freedom now?"

It was directly behind his shoulder and he spun, faster than the voice had expected because the blow almost connected. Almost because he stopped himself practically before he realized that the speaker was female.

It was instinctive, though he wished it hadn't been because the splitsecond of hesitation was enough for the creature – a glimpse, a white bat he thought she was – to dodge, and retaliate; a swift blow to his backspines and he lost his balance on the cobblestones.

He hit the ground, and hurriedly lifted himself to hands and knees as a shadow fell over him.

"Don't you get up while I'm talking to you!"

A sharp kick landed in his stomach and he fell onto his side, hunching over and trying to find air. The shadow over him came closer, words into his ear.

"You rat, do you even realize what you've done to Shadow?"

He turned his head away, fists clenching over the cobblestones. Don't listen. Wait for an opportunity to counterattack.

"Are you that stupid? Do you know what you've done? He's taken your place in the tournament. He's gone to die! Do you know that?!"

Tournament?

His mind was fast. For once, he had enough information to make the tenuous connection.

He let out a cry, rolled sideways and found his feet, trying to move before the words had their effect because he couldn't bear that truth, but he had barely gone five steps when another blow came, into his neck.

It sent him sprawling onto his back, gasping, unable to make a sound to block out the next words.

"You've killed him. Does that make you happy?"

The effect finally reached him and he wanted to die.

It would be impossible to find Shadow now. Impossible to escape, to fulfil his promise. But it was the thought that the bat might be right, that he might have caused Shadow to go to his doom, which topped it off and drove the fight from him.

He felt his purpose dissolve, taking his strength, his will, and he no longer wanted to fight back. It felt like dying.

Rouge watched as the hedgehog went limp, eyes staring at nothing – the glare and fire was gone, and its expression was so wretched that she suddenly felt mortified.

She had underestimated the effect her words would have. But it was just a slave, wasn't it? What did it matter? And yet its expression-

Suddenly she thought she could see, very faintly, what the darker hedgehog had meant.

"Shadow."

A whisper that her ears caught, pronounced strangely but recognizable nevertheless, and the hedgehog then rolled onto its front to hide its face, though the slightly shaking shoulders betrayed it.

The Wild would not sob or make any sound, but he couldn't stop the tears themselves. The terrible dead emptiness sucked away his restraint - it did not stop him feeling ashamed.

Or wondering. Wondering, as he lay in despair, what had happened to him that Shadow was able to have this effect, able to draw out the terrible darkness, grief and hopelessness that he otherwise was able to run away from and keep locked up. The darker hedgehog was only a hope, and a means to an end… wasn't he? What else was there?

Whatever that dark feeling was, he couldn't bear it.

A hand fell on his shoulder. He could not fight it, and felt helpless.

The voice had changed. "Come with me. I'll help you."

He could not resist.

He wept.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Indulge me with something. Why are you so very set against me?"

The Eastern Lord said nothing from his side of the carriage. The shadows made his eyes seem darker even than in the usual shadows cast by the cloak, almost vermillion.

"It seems strange, for one bad first impression." Shadow continued, dragging his fingers through his spines again to spread the black pine tar further. His streaks weren't hidden yet.

The other Lord shifted, and his voice was blank. "Whoever said it was anything to do with that?"

Shadow paused, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the tar sticking his spines into unnatural clumps, making him almost unrecognizable. Since running from the tent his mind had settled into a mixture of detachment and anger. Not willing to analyse what it meant, not willing to consider his situation, but unable to ignore it.

He needed to distract himself. Even if it meant talking to his rival Lord – it was even something of a relaxation, absurd as that sounded, because it was familiar when everything else was changing.

"You cannot mean the war?" He put forth incredulously.

"It was not a war. It was a massacre."

The black hedgehog scooped up more warm pine tar from the bucket, avoiding looking across the carriage into that darkness.

"It was nothing to do with me." He said.

His father. His father, who had not simply stood separate, as he did, who had been intent in targeting the other Lords. Shadow suspected that he had had stronger connections to the Royal Kingdom than he advertised, but it led to inevitable fighting.

A whole series of mini-wars with the other Provinces, one by one, for the people of the North-Eastern province were easily persuaded to fight; Shadow's father had been convincing and righteous, charismatic, on the outside.

Shadow knew him to be a fool.

If he himself was not a Lord, well, he still had made a better pretence of it than his father, save for this last action. He did not ally with anybody – he took his own path, and the Provinces knew peace, to some degree.

The past remained. But the wars had been a vague memory occurring around the safe bubble of his childhood, stories told by a series of different guardians, all of whom he frightened away or outdid with ease, and all he heard of the final one with the Eastern Province was what his father muttered from his deathbed.

But that time was one of the few moments that had disturbed him. He had deliberately avoided remembering it.

The Eastern Lord had not replied. And Shadow knew too little of the war to push the conversation further – it had been and gone before he took his father's place. Maybe it had been a massacre. But not entirely unprovoked or unasked for.

Maybe the Eastern Lord had lost his son. The dark hedgehog remembered that, now that he actually considered, for he had known him – Silver had been his name - briefly, when they were both children.

Something else he did not wish to remember, for the past was dead and gone and he had been taught not to let it haunt him.

But as a Lord, an experienced Lord, the Eastern one should know better than to pass grudges down family lines. If he was scarred, he should not hide it under a cloak, but endure the change until the pain of it was gone.

Shadow refused to bear guilt. Especially for events before his time.

He stopped, realising that he had almost been tugging at his spines in almost-angry frustration at the other Lord's irrationality. He checked the mirror, and the face that looked back was startlingly different – the mixture of pine tar and other natural dyes and gelling agents had done its work, transforming his spines into something near to a mess, and blocking out the red entirely.

He would have no trouble passing as a slave now.

It was not comforting.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	22. Free

Chaos: This lives, predominantly thanks to Terra. I hope this chapter will make sense to people after so long.

If you're here, I can't thank you enough for sticking with me and am very surprised to see you. It's been a while! How are things? We should hang out and catch up sometime. Over coffee. And biscuits.

… I bet nobody's missed my ramblings, at least!

Well, on we go. This chapter was one long, painful struggle of drawing things together to a disappointing conclusion which I feel quite under-whelmed by.

But nothing's worth having if you don't struggle to get it…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Rouge was lying along a beam slanting down from the ceiling of the ruined house – it had caved in a long time ago, and the beam had been left skewed when the roof was rebuilt. Too expensive to replace, like everything else in the slums of the Central Province where she made her living.

She was watching the hedgehog, as he warily pulled on the gloves she had provided. Flexed his fingers and made a fist. She could tell he was trying not to look at her.

So she was making him uncomfortable. Good. She didn't like him at all after what he had done to Shadow, who she had thought to be rather like herself – and she liked to think she was untouchable.

He was a threat, although she still couldn't quite work out how.

He was also the only chance Shadow had.

She ran a hand over the rings adorning the fingers of the other. It was a habit. She liked to know that they were there. They made a punch ten times more dangerous; although she preferred to use her feet and leave the jewellery clean.

The hedgehog had pulled on the sneakers now. They were old shoes, fairly worn down but still usable. Their owner had been low down in the Thieves' Guild ranks before eventually being knifed in a back alley.

She ignored the fact that she had always had to tell him to stop being careless and hoped instead that the shoes were cursed. Though with any luck the hedgehog could get to Shadow before they took effect.

She still wasn't sure what she was accomplishing here, but this was the source of all the problems for Shadow, and maybe the solution too. She was too well known by the Lords – and was quite proud of the current price on her head – to do anything herself, but the hedgehog was free.

Even if it was too late. She knew he would never get to the port in time. The only chance was to take a boat and try and follow them to the location of the Tournament, and she said as much to the Wild.

He gave a kind of shrug, staring out through the shattered window and half-fidgeting with the cuff of one glove.

"Are you listening?" She said, annoyed. Normally people who annoyed her got themselves killed, and having to make an exception only made her dislike him more. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

The door creaked and she turned to see a purple chameleon appear, blending into view from the shadows by the wall. The hedgehog instantly wore a glare, stepping back to the far corner.

"Espio, I said not to bother me." She said irritably. "I thought you had a job to do."

The chameleon inclined his head in apology. "The Eastern Province no longer needs me. I thought you should know."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, fine."

"I thought you should know," He said again, meaningfully, and with a sigh she moved closer. The hedgehog watched them but didn't move from the corner.

Espio continued in an undertone. "That hedgehog was at the North-eastern Lord's castle."

"Yes, so?"

"Why is he here?" The chameleon asked, hardly louder than a whisper.

"That's my business." She said in return, not seeing where he was going with this. "Explain yourself, Espio, these questions aren't important."

"They are." The chameleon said, more urgently, "That hedgehog doesn't belong to the Eastern Lord."

"What?"

"He didn't write the right name on the papers. He showed them to me before I started, but I saw the originals in the North-eastern Lord's study – they said 'blue hedgehog, Wild'… the Eastern Lord just wrote 'blue hedgehog'. They're invalid."

"Isn't that a technicality?" Rouge asked critically. It wasn't that she didn't trust the chameleon – he had a keen understanding of the law, allowing him to evade being arrested even if he was caught… but she didn't dare hope that Shadow had gone for nothing.

"Yes," Espio continued, "But it means if Shadow writes out new papers he has a case. And no Royal court would vote in favour of the Eastern over a loyal province, right? He doesn't have to enter this tournament."

The bat looked sharply at him. "How do you know about that?"

Espio squirmed. "Another chameleon overheard you and Lord Shadow… it's been going around the 'Guild. My point is, I know you're friends… if there was a chance to stop him-"

"No." Rouge said suddenly with a sigh, shaking her head and shifting her weight to one leg. "It's too late… you'd have to move faster than a cheetah to reach him now. The carriage left hours ago."

The door banged on its hinges and they both spun. The hedgehog was gone.

"What in the-!" Rouge's temper flared up; that creature had taken advantage of her distraction! But to move that fast…?

"Also," Espio said slowly, thoughtfully. "If Shadow didn't write out new papers already, it means any claim over that hedgehog is void.

It's free."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


End file.
